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WOOINGS 
IN RUSTICITY 



BY 

JAMES PRINGLE ADCOCK 

.Author of "Heart Whispers" 



.=.=^^=^= 



Once, in book-form, I ventured into print. 
And plaudits won from some not mentioned in't; 
Tho' sweet that praise, still thirsting on the brink. 
My eager heart would draughts more copious drink; 
And gives, still vain enough to hope for praise. 
These lengthened efforts of maturer days. 



^=*^^^= 



HAMPTON, KY., U. S. A. 

THE ADCOCK PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1909 



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Copyright, 1909, 

BY 

James Pringle Adcock. 

All Rights Reserved. 



CI. A 24 58 H 6 
AUa 19 1909 



INTRODUCTION. 



All hail, ye lovers of Romance ! 

In your behalf I touched the lyre ; 
And should my tuneful efforts chance 

To furnish nothing you admire, 

My hand may yet sweep smoother wire, 
And sweeter numbers wake thereon, 

Because my heart is still on fire. 
My mind from this rude task withdrawn, 
To other things goes on, careering on. 

A. 



PREFACE. 



If no poet had ever been guilty of the pubHcation 
of an unpromising volume, I would present this work 
to the public with as much reluctance as the timid hare 
would display on entering the lion's jungle; but such is 
not the case, and they who may have the time and 
patience to engage in the exploration shall discover 
vast Saharas and lava-rolling ^tnas in the great 
minds of every nation. 

I am aware that it is useless for me in my humble 
avocation of life to anticipate the acquisition of public 
applause, merited by any great achievement of my own 
on the warmly contested battlefield of English verse. 
Even in my wildest dreams of fame, I have seldom 
imagined myself competent to cope with the writers 
of pleasant rhyme, and never for once with the crowned 
heads of Poesy. 

"Fame is the thirst of youth ;" and I am not unwill- 
ing to acknowledge my own humble aspirations, for 
they have helped to lighten the burden of labor as I 
hewed down the forest, as I wrought at my buildings, 
as I reared up my fences and guided the plow. 

The aspirations of youth have followed me into 
manhood, and the Muse has visited my silent cot in the 



6 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

deep hours of midnight, gone with me to my work as 
I waded the snows of winter, and walked at my side 
through the harvest field in the burning suns of June. 

If the Hterary enthusiast digging deep shafts into the 
great mountain of Books, in pursuit of the gems of 
Poesy, has labored through all the debris of my pre- 
ceding volume and failed to become the happy recipient 
of one precious little nugget, I am, beginning to de- 
spair of ever being able to furnish the requisite jewel: 
and he is likewise doomed to disappointment who shall 
peruse this volume expecting the portrayal of wild, 
weird, and fanciful characters; for I have endeavored 
to clothe my heroes and heroines in the garb of real 
men and women, avoiding their presentation as angels 
of Heaven or demons of Perdition. 

I am indebted to no poet or critic for any services 
rendered in the composition or correction of these 
poems. I wrote such thoughts as came into my mind, 
and offer the public such as I have written, requesting 
it to bestow on ''Wooings in Rusticity" a thorough 
perusal, and on its author such reward as his labors 
entitle him to share. A. 

Sylvan Croft, March 15, 1909. 



CONTENTS. 

Valatah Bonnoree. 

Prelude 9 

Canto 1 10 

Canto II : 23 

Canto III 36 

Canto IV 49 

Falro Sylwin. 

Prelude 62 

Canto 1 64 

Canto II 75 

Canto III 86 

Canto IV 97 

Canto V 108 

Canto VI 119 

Orouthie Ingle. 

Prelude 130 

Canto 1 132 

Canto II 141 

Canto III 150 

Canto IV 159 

Canto V 168 

Zarree Odill. 

Prelude 177 

Canto I 178 

Canto II 188 

Arlmie Zeen. 

Prelude 199 

Canto 1 200 

Canto II 210 



8 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Orene Nelree. 

Prelude 220 

Canto 1 221 

Canto II 227 

Delgitha Ullawaim. 

Prelude 232 

Canto 1 233 

Canto II 239 

Ennis Olan. 

Prelude • 245 

Canto 1 246 

Canto II 256 

Notes 266 

Remarks by Poets 287 



VAL-A'TAH BON'NO-REE'. 



Prelude. 

• I. 
Sleep on, sweet Maid ! I mourn thy fate, 
In patient song thy cares relate. 
And struggle in a humble way 
To mark where lies thy sainted clay; 
For I have loved thee all the while, 
Adored thy every glance and smile. 
And would I could thy lonely hours 
Have whiled away in brighter bowers. 
And to thine arms restored the Youth, 
But dared not, for I reverenced truth. 

II. 
Sleep on, and may the glowing sod 

Heave lightly o'er thy generous breast ! 
For some may read whose feet have trod 

Around thy tenement of rest. 
They knew thee by a gentler name 
Than I have sought to crown with fame ; 
And knew thy maiden face more fair 
Than my rude verse may yet declare. 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 



Canto I. 
I. 

O earthly Love, propitious ray ! 
Blest sunbeam to life's cloudy day, 
Bright light with essence yet unknown, 
Spark from the mighty Giver's throne! 
Thou all our hope of earthly bliss, 
Our direst bane if sought amiss ; 
True source of all our smiles and tears 
From boyhood's hours to manhood's years ! 
But on we go, for fancy's wing 
Seems freer than the winds of spring. 
Our theme grows bright, our scene expands, 
With trembling feet we quit the sands 
And spread the sheet prepared to sail 
With the first murmurs of the gale. 

II. 

On famed Kentucky's pleasant slopes 
Our Subject lived and nursed her hopes. 
No sweeter maid man e'er may see 
Than young Valatah Bonnoree. 



VALATAH BON NO REE. n 

And she had wooers young and rare — 
All thought, and some proclaimed, her fair ; 
Some thought that in her eye's soft ray 
Her greatest claim to beauty lay. 
Some thought her wavy locks of jet 

More precious to their anxious sight, 
And others, just as wise, had let 

Her melting voice give them delight. 
I know not who were right or wrong, 
And care, should none reject my song. 

III. 
Her sire was quite a sober sage. 

Well known for honesty and truth ; 
Much read in many a classic page, 

A passion caught from early youth. 
All knew him rich in wealth untold, 
But in contentment more than gold; 
Yet he some cash had stored away 
Lest age should bring a rainy day. 
His wife declared Valatah dear 

Her greatest hope beneath the skies, 

And strove to teach her to be wise, 
That she unrivaled might appear 

In courtship's treacherous enterprise. 

IV. 
One brilliant eve when spring's soft hours 
Had robed the earth's broad breast in flowers. 



12 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

The great sun wheeling on his way 
Spilled o'er the earth his mildest ray; 
Soft breezes from the woodlands blew 

Low murmuring of the beds of flowers, 
O'er which their tardy pinions flew, 

Where misery's child might waste his hours 
And half his vanished hopes renew. 
No mortal form, perchance, e'er trod 

On brighter spot in day so chaste 
Since Adam, in the smile of God, 

His eager foot in Eden placed. 
Propitious scene! propitious day! 
Thus to inspire so rude a Lay. 
O that some skillful hand may choose 
To sketch thee in thy native hues. 
And show, in glowing tints portrayed, 
What I've so feebly here essayed! 

V. 

That eve Valatah sought to stray 
From 'neath her cottage roof away, 
Where down the lane huge maples stood 
A few short paces from the wood ; 
For there, from out a mossy mound. 
The spring its limpid current wound. 
And murmuring on 'twixt shores of green 
Strayed forth to glad the woodland scene. 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 13 

VI. 

To that bright spot Valatah strayed 
To share the breeze, enjoy the shade, 
And hear, from out the aged trees, 
The woodland minstrel's melodies. 
There butterflies of every hue 
On downy pinions crossed her view. 
And wild bees whispering to the flowers 
In search of sweets for wintry hours. 
The mock-bird, sober and sedate, 
Sang long, sweet songs unto his mate. 
The blue jay, vain of his attire. 
In broken strains joined in the choir. 
At length she took her seat, to think 
Where grew the wild rose on the brink ; 
And there, in meditation deep. 

She sat upon the streamlet's side, 
And watched the moss it used to sweep 

Drink as of yore its silver tide. 

VII. 
O, had Valatah young and fair 
None, none her heart's deep hopes to share ; 
No faithful breast, no loving heart 
In all her joys to bear its part? 
Not one, not one ; and this was why 
She sat with sad tears in her eye, 
Still gazing on the sporting stream 



14 



WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

To while away an empty dream. 
But that great void within her breast — 
That soHtude was half suppressed. 
She bade her idle thoughts depart, 

And brushed her eyes' warm drops away, 
And strove to nurse within her heart 

A wish to see all others gay. 
Though sad her heart and quite forlorn, 
She sought not others' loves to scorn; 
But heard on every bough above 
Some blithe bird chanting to his love. 

VIII. 
'Tis hard for woman, young and fair, 

Last work from God's creative hand. 
To spend her days in hopeless care. 

Where youthful gallants fill the land. 
Think not so sweet a flow'ret made 
In loneliness to pine and fade. 
But some strive on through countless cares 

To find their early hopes o'erthrown ; 
And time besprinkles frosty hairs 

Where once the raven ringlets shone. 
Sometimes pure thoughts unaptly read 
Lead women to their graves unwed. 

IX. 
Valatah thought life but a dream, 
And reckoned lovely gallants few ; 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 15 

But that bright eve beside the stream 

Brought one unconscious to her view 
While thus she mused in solemn thought 

Expecting no one to appear 
Till her bright eye through crystals caught, 

Adown the lane, approaching near, 

A youthful form as fair as e'er 
From any clime or country came. 
On, on, he strode erect and tall. 
Fit ornament for cot or hall, 
Or aught humanity may call 
That sounds like home's familiar name. 
At length the sportive rill he spied, 
And turned himself at once aside 
To sip the streamlet's limpid tide 

And rest beneath the maple's shade. 
Upon the brooklet's flowery side 

His hat and portmanteau he laid, 
And wiped from off his forehead wide 

Great drops that heat and toil had made ; 
Then knelt upon the brink to sip 
The blue wave murmuring to his lip, 
Nor yet beheld our blushing maid. 
Half hidden by the shrubbery's aid. 

X. 

We know not how Valatah felt. 
How soon her heart began to melt. 



l6 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

For there and much to her surprise 
Unconscious sat before her eyes 

All that her heart had sought to find. 
In silence as time swept along 
She sat still wondering if 'twas wrong; 

Vague fancies crossed her busy mind. 
Though stranger he, Valatah knew, 

By his bright mien and neat attire. 
That woman's love, that blessing true. 

In his young heart might kindle fire. 
She knew from consciousness within 

That should he chance behold her there 
He then his journey would begin 

And leave her to her heart's despair. 
From this she kept her silence long. 
And heard no more the throstle's song 
That echoed all the groves along. 
The zephyrs whispering through the trees. 
Among the flowers the busy bees 

She heard, or seemed to hear, no more ; 

For she, fair creature, ne'er before 

Had seen what filled her bosom's core 
With such delights, such ecstasies. 
Though late the hour that afternoon. 
Start when he might, 'twould be too soon. 

XL 
She sat half wishing in her mind 
That he would yet delay and find 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 17 

Within her bright paternal hall 
His peaceful lodging for the night; 

But vain her hopes — ^her wishes all 
For fancy drew their tints too bright. 
Alas ! her pleasant dream must close ; 
At length our gallant stranger rose 
His tiresome journey to resume; 

But ere he left that verdant shore, 

Blest spot that he might meet no more, 
From off its brink he plucked a bloom. 

XII. 

O thoughtless Man! no creature hath 
Seen half the flowers beside his path. 
Great bliss mankind might yet enjoy 
Did life's vain haste not such destroy. 
In every glance is something fair 
Could stupid man discern it there. 
In needless haste we oft descry 
But few bright gems where thousands lie. 
No beggar's path but leads him o'er 
Somewhere in life a golden store. 

XIII. 

It may be that my cottage stands 
On beds of diamonds, golden sands ; 
It may be that my first success 

Will prove my bane to happiness. 
2 



l8 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

No one can tell by night or day 
What seraphs watch his future way, 
Or when life's weary lamp grows dim 
What loving arms extend for him. 

XIV. 
The charming spots we chance to find 
Leave sweet impressions on the mind, 
Though years like torrents roll between. 
At last the parting moment came, 
Our stranger turned to bid adieu ; 
But, hush ! for something shook his frame, 
And quickly changed his quiet mien. 
Had some dire phantom met his view ? 
He started back with hurried pace 
As if to find some hiding place; 
Then came the color to his face. 
And fled confusion from his mind. 
Say, was it something wild and strange 
That gave his brow such sudden change ? 
No, no, that parting glance behind 

Revealed the modest maiden's face. 
Where he had nothing thought to find 

More than the scenery of the place. 

XV. 

Then rose Valatah's modest blush. 
And came her feelings' mighty gush. 
She sat half wishing in her heart 



VALATAH BON NO REE. 19 

That fate had bade the youth depart 
To meet his goal, ere he by chance 
Beheld her in his parting glance. 

XVL 

She then his eyes' soft sparkles met — 
Sweet glance that she might ne'er forget. 
His cheeks assumed a brighter hue 
As nearer where she sat he drew ; 
And yet no sound the silence broke, 
No word by youth or maiden spoke. 
Why need the tongue to strive and fail 
When actions tell the pleasing tale? 
O, when proud Feeling strives to speak. 
Who has not thought his language weak ? 
Who has not felt that silence gave, 
When feelings rose so deep and grave. 
More solace to his panting soul 
Than all the words his lips could roll? 
Who has not seen in Beauty's eyes 
Her heart's fond hopes like phantoms rise ? 
And thus, perchance, our blushing maid 
Unconscious quite her hopes betrayed. 

XVII. 
Then spoke the youth in accents sweet 
As Echo's tongue may e'er repeat : 
''Here have I spent one quiet hour, 



20 VVOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

In this deep shade^ this lovely bower, 
Upon the streamlet's edges soft, 
Where thou, perhaps, shalt linger oft 
When I'm afar, half in a dream 
Still thinking on this lovely stream. 
Is that tall cottage rising there 
So bright in Sol's descending glare 
And yonder fields so neat and fair 
Not objects of thy father's care?" 

XVIII. 

He paused, and ere she could reply 
Had caught the answer from her eye, 
And then went on without delay 
What yet he felt constrained to say: 
*'Has not that father many an heir 
His love and these rich fields to share — 
Yea, all these woodlands deep and wild ?' 
With head half bent the maiden smiled. 
And made this answer soft and mild : 
"O, sir ! I am his only child." 
If she a longer answer had. 
Pure modesty its use forbade. 

XIX. 

He then went on, delighted more : 
''Lile, live thou on, enjoy thy store; 
Lead thy young heart in virtue's ways 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 2t 

That peace may crown thy future days. 
O thou art blest ! if mortal e'er 
May share a lifelong blessing here. 
How few through all the world we find 

Would not exchange their lots with thee, 
And, leaving all their cares behind. 

Spread canvas on so calm a sea ?" 

XX. 

By this the sun, descending slow, 
Shed on the earth his parting glow. 
Then turned the youth, surprised to see 

That mighty orb had sunk so low. 
And, quite a hopeless wand'rer, he 

Had yet so many miles to go. 
He bowed and bade the maid adieu. 
And from her face his own withdrew. 
She thought ere this she could descry 
The tear drops swelling in his eye. 
By her, at least, one truth was known — 
She felt them kindling in her own. 

XXI. 
Her eye pursued him as he strode 
Far off upon the dusty road. 
Till distance in its depths of blue 
Caught his receding form from view. 
Then felt the maid as all have felt, 



22 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

When woke from dreams at midnight hour 
To see their lovely visions melt, 

Like gloaming's tears from morning's flower. 
Then sad Valatah sought her cot 

As evening spread her veil around^ 
And some would ask no brighter lot 

Than there the maiden might have found. 

XXII. 
O tell me not, ye grown so wise. 
That Passion's seat is in our eyes ! 
And that 'tis not from out the heart 
That all our eager longings start; 
A_nd that to view a painted wall 
Will silence these deep feelings all. 
But haste, my idle Muse, away, 
Lest we through negligence display 
Stale logic in an amorous Lay. 



Canto II. 

I. 

O why was mortal doomed to share 
In Pleasure's cup the dregs of Care ? 
Why formed so fond of happiness, 
Then torn from all that e'er may bless? 
Why given hope's translucent ray 
To lose it in some future day? 
Why crowned with laurels in the shade 
To see them in a moment fade? 

II. 
That night around the dainty meal, 
What strove Valatah to conceal ? 
When this was o'er, without delay 
She hurried to her room away, 
And lingering there that night so late. 
Sat she, so lovely yet sedate, 
And by her taper's fitful gleam 
Still musing o'er some Poet's dream. 
Where he had painted Woman fair. 
With sparkling eyes and waving hair. 
And furnished her in easy song 
Some one to love and cherish long ; 



24 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Then forthwith sent him far away 
In foreign climes an age to stray, 
And left his heroine in tears 
Such long, long hours, such hapless years ; 
But called him back with heart still true 
Through countless perils to her view, 
And gave — bereft of half her charms — 
The maiden to her lover's arms. 
Though beauty sleeps in wrinkles deep, 
The heart contrives its warmth to keep. 

III. 
'Tis strange that Poets seek to spoil 
Their heroes' lives with endless toil. 
They might for pity's sake forbear 
To plunge them in the gulf of Care. 
If we their reasons seek to know. 
They claim that Fate ordained it so. 
Then shall I to my task proceed, 
And follow where my path may lead. 
Not knowing yet whose heart shall bleed. 

IV. 

That night ere sweet Valatah slept 
Strange visions o'er her fancy swept. 
Reflection called her mind to task 
Because she had not thought to ask 
That lovely youth from whence he strayed, 



VALATAH BONNOREB. 2$ 

On what bright lawns his boyhood played, 
What rolling streams his eye surveyed, 
What spot enjoyed his deepest thought. 
What home he left, what region sought, 
If he had passed that way before, 
And if he aimed to pass there more. 

V. 

She knew not that her charms had made. 

Like his, a conquest of the heart. 
But thought 'twas from the maple's shade 

The stranger felt so loath to part. 
She dared to hope, in some sweet hour, 
That he would think upon that bower. 

And even dare to think of her. 
Yes, hoped that he would strive to trace 
One-half the features of her face — 

Thrice blest her lot should such occur. 
At midnight's hour when nature slept, 
And naught save she its vigils kept, 
In numbers soft, from lips so fair, 
Such words as these were whispered there : 

VI. 

"O that his future path may go 
O'er virent meads where blossoms blow ! 
May fortune, peace, and bliss attend 
My Wanderer to his journey's end ! 



26 WOOtNGS IN RUSTICITY. 

And Want, misfortune's harsher name, 

From his young heart no homage claim ! 

May his whole day of life be bright 

As Phoebus at meridian height, 

And all his hopes like Scynthia shine, 

Though midnight storm clouds darken mine !" 

VII. 

Much more was whispered in her prayer 

To which an ear I need not lend. 
O could the youth have seen her there. 
Her eyes in tears, her cheeks aflame, 
As from her lips these couplets came. 

That day had been his journey's end. 
Not so, not so, his heart like hers 
Gave dying Hopes their sepulchers. 
While he upon a stranger's bed 
Had sought to rest his burning head. 
Unconscious that by taper dim 
His heart's bright idol wept for him. 

VIII. 

No one can tell and none may learn 
Where Love's consuming flame may burn, 
How slight the cause that woke desire. 
What word or glance has fanned the fire ; 
And none can tell what others feel. 
Whose heart is anxious for our vv^eal, 



VALATAH BON NORM. 27 

Or who may wait to bless our lot 
Long years and we perceive it not. 
We know not whom our smiles elate, 
We know not who beside the gate 
May yet our tardy steps await — 
All, all may love and some can hate. 
It may be that some faithful heart 
Is lost through harshness on our part. 
When one soft word, one gentle tone 
Had made its blessings all our own ; 
Then we had caught its happy glow 
That bygone years have needed so. 

IX. 

It may be that deep wounds we give 
To hearts in which our natures live, 
And may be through some lover's prayer 
Great blessings we from heaven share. 
When all around so blithe appear, 
None dream that breaking hearts are near ; 
And where such charming smiles we find. 
None think that tears are just behind. 

X. 

O Woman ! thou our rise and fall. 
So bright and beautiful withal, 
Thy tears o'er waste Affection shed 
Would doubtless fill the ocean's bed, 



28 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Or if from thence in masses hurled 
Would deluge all our little world ; 
And Man, thy brother wild and rude, 
Has left no few with Solitude ! 

XL 

The days wound on, our maiden strove 

To sail with Fashion's idle crew ; 
But vain her aim — that maple grove 

And lovely youth rose to her view. 
Then Reason's aid Valatah sought 

To drive her idle thoughts away; 
Vain was her logic if she thought, 

Where Love is crowned that reason may 

One moment hold unbroken sway. 
He toils in vain who wets the floor 

To check the house top's angry blaze ; 
He toils for naught who would restore 

An aged man to youthful days ; 
He dreams amiss who hopes to gain 
In foreign climes release from pain. 
'Twas so with her, her hopes were vain, 
Her lips gave out this simple strain: 

XII. 

"The Bards have sung of Lethe's tide. 

O where may earth this blessing keep ? 
From what dark glen or mountain side 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 29 

May its prolific waters leap ? 
If I could find that mighty stream, 
I'd drink till it dispersed my dream." 
Sweet child, thou hadst not quaffed alone 
If such strange stream to man were known ; 
Earth's older sons had met thee there 
With many a hopeless case of Care. 

XIII. 

But on and on our hero strayed, 
Strange faces met, new friendships made, 
And countless ills had, night and day. 
Thrown dusky shadows o'er his way ; 
But he had met no face more fair 

Than that within the maple's shade. 

Which he so eagerly surveyed 
That happy hour he loitered there. 

XIV. 

O Destiny, thou strange, strange thing, 

In man great changes thou hast wrought ! 
Some leave the plow to reign as king ; 

Some lessons learn of men they taught ; 
Some close their eyes upon the field 

Just when their swords have won renown ; 
Some conquer much at last to yield ; 

Some save up gold to buy a crown ; 
Some leave the forge at Freedom's call ; 



30 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Some triumph in a tyrant's fall, 

Yet claim to love him all the while ; 

Some end their days when ills befall — 
O deed atrocious, black and vile ! 

XV. 

Shall destiny our youth restore 
Unto that sweet maid as before, 
Or must he wander evermore 
Unblest from sad Valatah's door? 
The days speed on. Time keeps his pace 
Regardless of our changing race. 
No one need think to stay his flight 
When some new bauble gives delight, 
Or urge the Monarch on his way 
When they would gain some future day. 

XVI. 
The months rolled on; Valatah seemed 

The gayest bird in Beauty's grove. 
And none — not even her parents — dreamed 
That her Affection's heart-blood streamed 

For one who, destined still to rove, 
Might yet return some future day. 
Perchance to some fond heart's dismay. 
Her friends all thought Valatah gay. 

And had no idea that she strove 
To drive her mind's dark clouds away. 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 31 

XVII. 

Oft have we seen fair Woman smile 
With sad tears in her eyes the while, 
And we, in Pleasure's lighted hall. 

Have heard her merry laughter ring. 
E'en when her sweet Afifections all 
Were dipped in Disappointment's gall. 

O gentle, loving, trusting thing ! 

XVIII. 

One lovely eve, 'mid autumn's reign, 
When Sol, descending to the main, 
In softer tints had dressed the lawn 
Than e'er by mortal's hand were drawn, 
The sighing gale that swept along 
Still echoed back the wild bee's song, 
And one might catch in its soft breath 
Faint murmurings of the flowers in death. 
O Earth, how beautiful and fair ! 
No mortal form should nurse despair 

And gaze on thee one moment's space ; 
Let Misery to the woods repair. 

And, gazing on Dame Nature's face, 
Forget the last dull sting of Care. 

XIX. 

That lovely eve Valatah sought 

To spend an hour in solemn thought 



32 



WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Where in the merry days of spring 
She paused to hear the wild birds sing ; 
Though oft adown the peaceful glen 
Had strolled the musing maid since then, 
When breezes came low murmuring on 
From groves far off upon the lawn, 
Where some bright birds their love lays sung, 
And others wrought to feed their young. 



XX. 

At last the maid's slow step returned 

To meet a stranger at her gate 
Whom many an idle one had spurned, 

He seemed so sad and desolate. 
He paused, and 'Atah smiled to trace 
The features of his handsome face — 
Sweet face, first seen beside the stream 
When Passion shed its twilight gleam, 
And since in many a midnight dream. 

XXI. 

O Life ! though clouds deface thy skies, 
At times some brilliant moments rise ; 
The sun from out the heaven's blue 
Shines on our darkened paths anew. 
And gives us through his cheerful rays 
Bright hopes of many happy days. 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 33 

We learn, unwilling to be taught, 

That they who through thee sighing go, 

At first, in vain, some idol sought, 

And loosed their own flood gates of woe. 

Too oft in manhood's early years 

We dig the channels for our tears. 

XXII. 
But let us not, in thoughtless song, 
Detain the youth and maid so long 

In silence at the cottage gate. 
O then he spoke in voice the same ! 
''Fair Miss, if thou wouldst know my name, 

'Tis nothing more than Silvo Date." 
'Twas said in tones as sweet and clear 
As ever blessed that maiden's ear. 
On him an anxious look she cast; 

What most surprised Valatah then 
Was he who first on foot had passed 

With horse and chaise should come again. 
She might have seen great crowds of men 
Who rode at first to walk at last. 
And might have known some thoughtful page 
Who walked in youth to ride in age. 

XXIII. 
Then leaning from his cushioned seat, 
Quoth he : 'T've grown fatigued to-day. 
And fain would rest upon my way 
If I may find some calm retreat." 
3 



34 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

"O, sir ! my father's absent now, 
He drove to town this afternoon, 
But I will send my mother soon." 
Then came the blush upon her brow, 
That brow how beautiful and fair ! 
She bade the stranger linger there. 
And, passing through the cottage gate, 
Left him alone his doom to wait. 
At length appeared the rustic dame, 
And gazed into the stranger's face 
To see if aught of sin or shame 

Had on his features left a trace ; 
He met her glance with noble mien, 
And thus addressed the household queen 



XXIV. 

"O madam, once as night drew near 
I passed this lovely cottage here. 
And found great numbers on the road 
Who think that nature has bestowed 

Her care on them and them alone. 
Yes, met with those who care no more 
To turn a stranger from their door 

Than if their hearts were made of stone. 
Then tell me if thou wilt deny 
Home's comforts to a passer-by?" 
fie paused to hear the dame's reply. 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 35 

"No, sir ; though small and rude our store, 
We turn no wanderer from our door. 
If 'tis your wish, you may alight; 
We'll give you lodging for the night." 

XXV. 
At length the rustic Sage appeared; 
The youth surveyed his frosty beard, 
And in his features seemed to scan 
Each trait that marks a noble man. 
Ere ev'ning's parting smiles were shed 
Valatah's hand their supper spread. 
The ware appeared so bright and neat, 
So soft and white the table sheet. 
Our youth for gazing scarce could eat. 
There face to face sat sage and dame. 

And face to face sat youth and maid; 
The old had played in Life's great game. 

The young, fond creatures, had not played. 
O ye whose eyes may fill with tears 
When some soul-touching scene appears ! 
Frown not if this strange contrast here 
Is not enough to claim a tear. 
To paint the glow in Beauty's cheek. 
Or bid. Affection's feelings speak. 



Canto III. 
I. 
Thou Soul of Man! no gift so rare 
Has God intrusted to our care, 
Rich storehouse kept at Wisdom's seat, 
True guidance to the Dust's retreat, 
Companion till its last defeat, 
Predestined in Time's close to meet; 
And thus united Heaven share 
Or howl with arch-fiends in despair. 
Great boon to Man alone supplied— 
Man thus to glory's King allied, 
Though beast to other beasts denied, 
Mysterious beast, his Maker's pride. 

II. 

What this strange Creature might have been 

Had he escaped the gulf of Sin, 

No mortal knows ; no tongue can guess 

Or sound his sea of Happiness, 

Nor knows how much he might have lost, 

On what wild mains been tempest-tossed, 

Had God reversed his perfect plan 

And kept the mind and soul from Man. 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 37 

If such the poor dumb brutes had gained 
And Man had lost, then they had reigned, 
Then had they filled Man's sphere to-day 
And he been just as dull as they. 



III. 



Man in his fall sank down as low 
As Nature gave him room to go, 
But has since then great progress made, 
Left shining tracks by Heaven's aid; 
Pierian draughts drank deep and free, 
Played on the sands by Wisdom's sea, 
And from the midnight mines of Thought 
From time to time rare jewels brought. 
But let us leave this creature here 
Himself, his wand'ring bark to steer. 



IV. 



Would I could sketch in tints as bright 
Our Rambler's thoughts that happy night ! 
He saw through Fancy's varied view 
Life's little day begin anew, 
While by his side Valatah strode 
Far off upon Life's future road. 
And Fancy labored to engage 
A flow'ry path for him in age. 



38 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

V. 

Young Silvo on that lovely night 

Surveyed his bedroom o'er and o'er ; 
His taper cast a brilliant light 

On painted wall and shrouded floor. 
'Twas on that wall his eye beheld 
Rich ornaments not oft excelled 

In country cot, in rustic dome; 
He knew quite well who placed them there 

With hope to beautify her home. 
I need not tax my venturous muse 
To paint their sizes, shapes, and hues, 
When all with one accord declare 
If Woman made them they were fair; 
Nor strive to tell her thoughts that night 
Whose hand had made those walls so bright 
Or tell whose name was in her prayer, 
How sweetly, fondly whispered there; 
How long she lingered musing ere 

Sweet slumber gave her wonted rest; 
How deep her sigh, how warm her tear, 

How chaste her hopes, how fond her breast, 
Hov/ pure her love, how truly kept 
For him who 'neath those pictures slept. 



VI. 



The morning came ; its early ray 
Bespoke a lovely Sabbath day. 



VALATAH BONN ORES. 39 

Yes, came at length, and gently hurled 
Night's dusky shades behind the world 
And cast on earth her lucid light, 
Where yet remained the tears of night. 
That day was spent in cheerfulness; 

The Sage resumed his youthful glee 
And fair Valatah strove to bless 

Young Silvo with his courtesy. 
She laughed, she talked, she played, she sung, 
No word but melted from her tongue ; 
No word she spoke, no smile she gave 

But found its way to Silvo's heart, 
And Modesty, reserved and grave. 

Might sanction such without a smart. 

VII. 

Then Autumn's sober evening came 

With red leaves dangling from the trees ; 
The distant woodland seemed aflame 

And fanned by ev'ry passing breeze. 
Our youth and maid, now left alone, 

Sat gazing in each other's eyes. 
Love is the same in ev'ry zone, 

'Neath arctic or antarctic skies. 

VIII. 

Then spoke the youth: "Sweet maid, I fear 
That this short stay, this sojourn here 



40 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Will be the cause of many a tear 
And prove my bane some future year. 
I've loved thee, loved thee, gentle maid, 
Since first within the maple's shade 
Mine anxious eyes thy form surveyed. 
Since first we met my lot has changed ; 
O'er smoother paths my feet have ranged. 
A rich old uncle's late demise 
Has filled my hands with fresh supplies; 
But I've professions true and tried 
By which I would sustain my bride. 
Yes, I have something of my own 
Which only fails when Life's o'erthrown- 
The Will, that bids us brave the blast 
And reach the port secure at last. 

IX. 

I know not what thy heart may feel, 
I know not if you wish my weal, 
I nothing know but that thou art 
The fondest idol of my heart; 
I'd traverse earth or skim the brine 
To gain one loving smile of thine 
Or seek alone the frozen pole 
To whine away my troubled soul. 
In dreams I've seen thy smiling brow 

So oft since first adown the glen 
I feel myself no stranger now. 

And hope I ne'er may be again ; 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 41 

And if imprudent I appear, 

Frown not : the best of men may err." 



X. 



He ceased. The blushing maid repHed : 
''O, sir ! I find no cause to chide ; 
Thy language no small comfort brings, 
For life and love are strange, strange things. 
A glance may light love's flame so well 

That future years shall soil it not; 
A smile, a tear, a blush may tell 

What the vain tongue had quite forgot." 



XL 

At this she ceased and dropped her head — 
Much more than this she might have said 
Then came a moment's pause, and he 
Took up the theme more earnestly : 
"Perchance thou hast in other eyes 
Seen all thy tender heart may prize. 
And let some voice more soft than mine 
Enchant that gentle soul of thine ; 
But let me cease. Misfortune's heir 

May claim no boon, no gift so great; 
Not one on earth perhaps would share 

Her heart and hand with Silvo Date." 



42 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

XIL 

But hark ! a footfall on the floor 
Gave warning that his bliss was o*er. 
Valatah through the window spied 
Him who had wooed her for his bride; 
More age than youth was on his face, 
But hoarded gold had filled its place. 
On, on he came, and, glancing back 

Where stood his carriage in the lane, 
His dappled steed tied to the rack 

With ribbons plaited in his mane. 

XIII. 
Then rose the maiden from her chair 
And greeted him with graceful air ; 
But Silvo saw, despite her care, 
That one had come not needed there. 
He had for three years wooed the maid, 
And she as long sweet "Yes" delayed; 
Through all these years he sought to hold 
Her cheerful heart in bands of gold. 
And she perchance in years to come 

Had bowed unto her suitor's sway 

Had not our Rambler passed that way 
Ere fate had struck her feelings dumb. 
Too oft has Age by ceaseless toil 

Obtained reluctant Beauty's hand. 
Soft hand his only served to soil. 

Bright ornament to Hymen's band. 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 43 

Too oft has thoughtless Beauty made 

Her heart a sacrifice in sooth 
By choosing Age, in gems arrayed, 

To fill the place of buxom youth. 

XIV. 

Let's not delay, for face to face 

There stood the youth and bearded beau ; 
The former had begun the chase, 

The latter feared to find it so. 
Then 'Atah spoke; her words were few. 

And from her lips in numbers fell, 
And neither of her suitors knew 

How tongue could breathe those names so well. 
Like one who had no cause at stake, 

At length young Silvo strolled away 
To watch the twilight shades overtake 

The last sweet smile of parting day. 

XV. 

Far down the broad lane's grassy side 
With eager step our hero strayed 

To where the streamlet's limpid tide 
Still murm'ring o'er its pebbles played. 

Bright stream ! on whose moss-covered shore 

His weary foot had paused before; 

Sweet spot ! whose soul-delighting shade 

Had once so long his step delayed. 



44 



WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

XVI. 

But soon the village church bell broke 
Its solemn numbers o'er the dale, 
And to our Rambler's feelings spoke 

Of one then in his native vale 
Who many a time at that still hour 
Had welcomed him unto her bower. 
But hush ! At thought of some sweet name 
We feel our own proud hearts grow tam.e, 
And sometimes too our eyes bestow 
Those messengers of bliss or woe 
When mem'ry wakes to yield us back 
Fair forms that crossed our former track. 
We know not if he saw her smile, 

Again beheld her parting tear, 
Or that he heard a little while 
So softly murmured in his ear 
Sweet sounds once to his bosom dear. 
Some have for one sweet maiden's weal 
O'er all their hearts let kindness steal ; 
Some have with hand and presence sought 
To pay for goods that Folly bought, 
When Love's light wing sped lightly on 
With some one else adown Life's lawn. 
Now ye so skilled in Love's deep lore, 
Come lead us to the light once more ; 
We dream that thousands by the aid 
Of this same feeling are betrayed. 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 45 

1' 
XVII. 

There Silvo mused till twilight's veil 

Was hovering o'er the peaceful dale; 

Then soon unto the cottage gate 

His hasty foot had brought him near. 
He had not aimed to stay so late ; 

The village bell alarmed his ear. 
But while its plaintive echoes still 
Were murm'ring on the wooded hill 
His mind was lost amid the haze 
That mem'ry caught from other days. 

XVIII. 

He paused to loiter by the stile; 
Forth came the Sage with winning smile, 
And thus addressed the youth the while : 
"The bell has rung, and there, behold, 
Go bustling crowds of young and old ; 
They to the village church repair; 
My task to-night to teach them there : 
Our church is plain, my teaching too, 
But all remain to hear me through. 
The village lies off to our right, 
By fertile fields surrounded quite; 
No fairer spot may traveler's eye 
In all this world's wide waste descry. 
The road is smooth, the night is fair ; 
Behold, my steed stands harnessed there; 



46 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

The full-faced moon shall yield us light 
To trace our homeward path to-night; 
And if you wish to ride with me, 
Come take the seat prepared for thee." 
"With all my heart," the youth replied, 
"And I am ready for our ride." 

XIX. 

The two were scarcely seated when 
The bell's soft tones were heard again ; 
Then hurried footsteps beat the floor, 
And all at once beside the door 
Valatah with her beau appeared, 
Her dress no grayer than his beard. 
Our Rambler viewed them o'er and o'er. 
The halter rein at once untied. 
The two were seated side by side, 
Then sped along the dusty track; 
Her silvery laugh, the whip's low smack 
At times upon the winds came back. 

XX. 

But let's not chase the flying pair 
When slower themes demand our care, 
And, as becomes our task, relate 
What made young Silvo so sedate. 
And though the Sage quite merry seemed, 
He, honest soul, but little dream^ed 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 47 

Of half the poison darts that stole 
Their way into his partner's soul. 
Our youth in Love's sure fetters bound 
Had tramped the weary world around 
Or pushed across the watery waste 
On hopeless keg with willows laced, 
Could he have won so long a ride 
As that by fair Valatah's side. 

XXL 

But let us here our skill employ 
In 'Atah's bliss to find alloy 
And whisper with slight emphasis: 
A laugh is no sure sign of bliss ; 
Our smiles to please some one are meant, 
And from the heart not always sent. 
'Twas plain that 'Atah's busy mind 
Was ling'ring then with one behind, 
And that her laugh, so sweet and clear. 
Came ringing back for him to hear. 
'Tis vain to think that aught can bless 
Or cheer us in Care's wilderness. 

XXII. 

The church was reached ; in strode the Sage ; 

Our sprightly Rambler came behind. 
And 'Atah's beau strove to engage 

One-half the thoughts of 'Atah's mind. 



48 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

No language can the fact disclose 
How 'Atah's gentle bosom rose 
When she received as he passed by 
That tender glance from Silvo's eye. 
That same sweet glance in 'Atah's sight 

Outweighed the gold her beau possessed, 
And they who gazed that lovely night 

Could tell who triumphed in her breast ; 
But language is too short, too weak 

To paint an hour of honest weal. 
O that our tongues could only speak 

One-half our burning bosoms feel ! 

XXIII. 

The service closed with midnight near; 
But we've no time to linger here. 
On, on with hasty step we roam 
And send our ill-starred lovers home, 
There to remain till morning breaks 
And from its sleep the world awakes. 



Canto IV. 

I. 

Alas! such thoughtless worms are we, 
And filled o'erfull of Vanity; 
So blind to our best interests all, 
So slow to hearken Prudence' call. 
Too oft we strive to gain a name 
And win our meed, eternal shame; 
Too oft we toil in search of gold, 
Then die of hunger in the cold ; 
And he who seeks to spread his snare 
For Beauty, bright and debonair, 
By undue fondness hazards all. 
Him vainer than the rest we call. 

II. 

Did 'Atah's beau last night appear 
At times too fond, or sit too near. 
Was such the cause of 'Atah's blush ? 
It was ; but hush, my fancy, hush ! 
For naught demands my idle Song 
To linger on the way so long. 
The morning came ; its golden light 

Stole on o'er Nature's heaving breast, 
And found the few we left last night 

Emerging from their beds of rest. 
4 



50 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

At breakfast soon that group appeared, 
Sad group whose parting hour was near ; 

On that same hour sweet 'Atah erred, 
And then came gloom o'er her career. 

III. 

How many in our paths we find 
In judgment clear, concise in mind! 
And some, though for a moment wrong, 
Grow wise thereby their whole lives long. 
Experience, glad to teach her lore, 
One lesson gives, we ask no more, 
And this same lesson thus acquired 
Remains till being has retired. 
'Twas so with her whom I have thought 

Meet subject for my Amorous lay. 
'Twas much that grim Experience taught 
The fair Valatah Bonnoree 

In early life that autumn day 
When judgment erred so fearfully. 

IV. 

Young Silvo's heart was faint and weak, 
For he had long, long wished to speak 
Sweet words for none but *Atah's ear, 
And she, fond soul, still hoped to hear; 
But should the anxious dame have spied 
Her smile on other than Tasseltyde, 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 51 

Such cold reproof she knew would come 
As strikes young hearts with terror dumb. 
Too often has an hour's delay 
Caused us the labor of a day. 
A minute's loss has caused more tears 
Than seconds in a thousand years ; 
The squand'ring of a moment's lain 
More souls in night than War has slain. 



V. 

At length our youth impatient grew, 
And thought to take the road anew; 
His horse and chaise were at the gate, 
He had but paused to hear his fate ; 
And 'Atah still no scheme contrived 

By which to speak with him alone; 
She thought his drooping hopes revived- 

A sad mistake, for they had flown. 
No one can tell how deep the dart 
Her leisure sent to Silvo's heart, 
What clouds came o'er his mental skies, 
When sadder tears stood in his eyes ; 
Naught but her smile could then dispel 
The gloom that o'er his pathway fell, 
And she, our sweet and gentle maid. 
That soothing smile too long delayed. 



52 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

VI. 

Our Rambler rose ; he broke the spell, 
Then, turning, bade them both farewell, 
And left sweet 'Atah by the side 
Of rich, old Vandiz Tasseltyde; 
But paused to spend a moment more, 
With Sage and wife outside the door. 
No fare was charged, a gift was made, 
And Silvo from the cottage strayed. 
O that my Muse possessed the power 
To tell his sadness in that hour ! 



VII. 

Now let us turn to view the pair. 
Are they where Silvo left them there ? 
Not so; from out the window stared 

Valatah through the distance dim; 
Then come what would, she nothing cared, 

For all her heart had gone with him ; 
She stood in strange bewilderment, 

The bright tears gushing o'er her cheek. 
Of whence he came, or whither went, 

She had not heard the Rambler speak ; 
She knew not where his home might be, 

If he such spot on earth possessed. 
She gazed, she wept, she felt that she 

Had wasted time to spoil her rest; 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 53 

And sour or sweet, her trembling lip 
Had rather quaff his cup with him 

Than turn one step aside to sip 

The bubble bright from Plenty's brim. 

VIII. 

'Twas thus she watched the youth depart, 
Not knowing where he took her heart ; 
Then Vandiz heard the maiden's sigh, 
And viewed the bright tears in her eye ; 
And thus he spoke in accents low 
As if his heart o'erflowed with woe. 

IX. 

"O come, Valatah, come and give 
Me that for which I wished to live ! 
Thy heart, thy heart, to place with mine 
One moment on Love's mighty shrine ! 
I little care what comes or goes, 
How soon I'm destined to repose, 
In what lone woodland, dark and deep, 
My hapless form may sink to sleep. 
If I'm thus banished from thy sight, 
My heart and hopes in endless night. 

X. 

O, think not that in one brief hour 
Affection e'er may lose her power ! 



54 WOOINCS IN RUSTICITY. 

And thou mayst feel when I am gone 

What then, perchance, thou wouldst recall ; 
And thy young life, just in its dawn, 

May grow so sad, and gloomy all. 
Some hapless wretch, unknown to me, 
Has sought to fix my destiny ; 
Yes, sought, perhaps, to gain his meed 

With falsehoods black as Pluto's den, 
And doomed my trusting heart to bleed. 

O, 'Atah ! hear me once again — 
I tell thee that my heart is thine, 

My hard-earned gold at thy command. 
Then dare not doom me to repine 

An exile from his native land. 
My painted cot and garden neat 

Were all arranged, all made for thee ; 
My spacious lawns await thy feet — 

Then come and share these joys with me." 

XI. 

"O, sir ! your house, your lawns, and gold 

Are, doubtless, charming to behold ; 

But they would only yield to me 

Fresh cause for heartfelt misery. 

To think that thou shouldst lavish care 

On her whose heart thou might'st not share, 

To see thee, feel thee at my side. 

And love thee not, yet be thy bride. 



VALATAH BON NO REE. 55 

Were more than my poor heart could bear. 
I have no will to treat thee so — 
No cause have I to work our woe." 



XII. 

"O, 'Atah ! 'Atah ! smile once more 
As in those happy days of yore ; 
Expel these darkening shades that now 
Seem gath'ring on thy bonny brow, 
And let me bathe in thy sweet smile 
My troubled soul a little while. 
One moment more thy smile renewed 
Would cheer my heart in solitude ; 
Then let me, ere to exile driv'n, 
Share that great bliss to mortal giv'n. 
Long had I hoped to make thee mine, 

And share the goodness of thy heart ; 
But these fond hopes I now resign, 

And bid them from my soul depart. 
At times I thought thy love was won — 

Believed myself beloved by thee — 
But all in vain, my task is done, 

And naught but death remains for me ; 
And I could greet that monster grim 
To lose my mind's dark clouds in him ; 
I would not live when all has fled 
On which my heart in fondness fed. 



56 WOOtNGS IN RUSTICITY, 

XIII. 

But let me cease — some stranger's face 

May seem more pleasing to thine eye ; 
And in thy heart a warmer place 

To him, perchance, thou'lt not deny. 
If so, smile on, nor think of me — 

I'll wish thee joy, though I repine; 
But still remember his can be 

No warmer, fonder heart than mine." 
He said no more, no parting word 
From trembling lip Valatah heard ; 
He rose, he passed the threshold stone, 
And left the maid in tears alone — 
Those eyes, too beautiful to swim 
In tears, unless in tears for him. 

XIV. 

He sought to flee the haunts of men. 

Disgusted with the human race ; 
But let, amid the wooded glen, 

His mind its former gloom embrace; 
With hasty steps then onward sped. 

And left the silent dale behind. 
Alas ! he seemed as though he fled 

To overtake his fleeing mind. 
He paused beside the woodland spring 

That swept along so silently. 
And seemed to hear the wild birds sing : 

''O sweet Valatah Bonnoree !" 



VALATAH BONNOREB. 57 

On, on he sped, but in his ear 

The same sad notes were ringing still ; 

He saw the village lights appear 
As he stood gazing from the hill ; 

Then through his ear into his soul 

The church bell's solemn echoes stole. 



XV. 



On sped the hours — the monarch Time, 
Proud wrecker of our dreams sublime, 
Brings on our changes quite as soon 
As ocean flows unto the moon. 
The gay, young heart that 'Atah had 
Was soon the saddest of the sad ; 
Her day of happiness had gone, 
And Care's dark night came stealing on. 
The saddest thing that man has known 

Is woman when her heart is dead — 
A wayside blossom left alone 

To perish in the light it shed. 
Such 'Atah was ; but dare not ask 

How she in crowds her tears suppressed, 
For his is quite a hopeless task 

Who would unfold strange woman's breast, 
Search all that wind-tossed hulk about. 
And bring its mighty secrets out. 



58 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

XVI. 

Then months, long months, came rolHng on, 
And 'Atah's beaux appeared no more ; 

Her bosom's last faint hope had gone, 
And rapture's dream for her was o'er. 

Muse ! henceforth our theme is sad, 
And rife with sadness, pain, and tears, 

Some have in youth bright prospects had 

That brought them grief in after years ; 
'Twas so with her, our gentle maid. 
Whose doom my Muse would fain have stayed. 

XVII. 

1 need not track young Silvo's feet 
On all the plains they yet shall beat, 
Or search afar in distant dell 

For winds that bore his sad farewell ; 
Nor need I search to find the sod 
O'er which lamenting Vandiz trod 

When life's faint tide was ebbing low ; 
'Tis quite enough for me to tell 
That far adown some lonely fell 

His footsteps wandered to and fro. 

XVIII. 

Ambition, Pride, and Vanity — 
Rude trio, ill-united three ! 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 

No one has had a moment's rest 
With these three seated in his breast ; 
No subject has enjoyed an hour 
Since these old tyrants came in power ; 
And they enjoyed unbroken sway 
O'er Silvo's heart for many a day, 
Or he had, in three long, long years. 
Returned to dry sweet 'Atah's tears. 

XIX. 

Through all these years she bore her grief. 
Still hoping time would bring relief; 
For in her heart's most sacred deep 

His melting words were burning yet — 
Frail hearts may weighty treasures keep, 

And die with them but ne'er forget. 

XX. 

But dire Disease appeared at last ; 
Her brilliant hours of life were past: 
Her lips began to lose their hue, 
Her sparkling eyes were stricken too, 
Her young, fair form grew weak and frail, 
Her cheeks were pale — O, deathly pale ! 
Her friends, the loving and the true, 

Stood o'er her mute and motionless ; 
Not one of all that circle knew 

One-half her soul's deep loneliness. 



59 



6o WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

The fire that feeds upon the heart 
Will burn its fuel out at last ; 

And Death — perchance, the nobler part — 
Comes on when life's brief day is past. 

XXI. 

When mellow voices piped at dawn, 
And gentle Spring came smiling on, 
Fresh flow'rets sprinkled by the way 
Proclaimed at once her pleasing sway ; 
All earth prepared to live anew, 
And 'Atah bade that earth adieu. 
They placed her near the woodland rude, 

And sprinkled flow'rets o'er her tomb ; 
And there, with pensive Solitude, 

They left at rest our faded Bloom. 

XXII. 
A year wound on and Silvo came, 
With heart and feelings still the same, 
And sought once more the maple shade, 
Where first he met the blushing maid. 
There sporting on the streamlet's side 
A rustic youth our Rambler spied; 
And he, when questioned, thus replied : 
"Yon glistening marble far away 

Stands weeping o'er that Lady's breast ; 
She died at noon one lovely day — 

That solemn stone can tell the rest." 



VALATAH BONNOREE. 6l 

XXIII. 

He sought the mound, and by his side 

His lovely maid appeared again. 
He hailed her as his future bride; 

His care-worn heart beat lightly then; 
But all in vain — 'twas fancy's jest, 

Or vague imagination's whim — 
The cold, green herbage o'er her breast 

Had sterner truths in store for him. 

XXIV. 

Yes, Silvo came ; but why prolong 
The echoes of my finished song ? 
The Muse naught more need now relate, 
But leave poor Silvo to his fate, 
With broken heart beside her clay 
To mourn life's stormy eve away. 
And bathe with tears the herbage green 

That grew above her earthly part. 
Sad was his soul and sad his mien — 

That spot of earth held all his heart ; 
And there he wept. Yet why delay ? 
My theme's last numbers steal away, 
And Silence, deep as Silvo's grief. 
Comes o'er the scene without relief. 



FAL'RO SYL'WIN. 



Prelude. 
I. 

ye whose souls may melt o'er Ovid's lays, 
Or sigh with Scotia's Bard of happier days — 
Yes, ye,* with hearts to love's soft numbers set, 
Forbear to blame if I'm unpleasing yet. 

1 bade my Muse engage her sweetest tone ; 
And if she failed, I claim the fault my own. 
Her theme was sad ; and if she sang in vain, 
I ask but silence for her hapless strain; 
Her future path is subject to the gale. 

And countless rocks may wait her tardy sail. 

I know not yet how far the scented breeze 

May waft that sheet in quiet o'er the seas ; 

And know not yet what storms may sweep the brine. 

Or long, bright days upon her pathway shine. 

I only know Love's soul-enchanting smile, 

Our chosen guide to steer that bark the while. 

II. 

O Love, thou goddess gentle, pure, and chaste! 
Inspire my Muse to thread the watery waste, 



FALRO SYLWIN. 63 

Or point our path along the verdant shore 
Where mountain streams unceasing waters pour. 
And should that path conduct me to the bow'rs, 
Where some old Bard had won his wreath of flow'rs ; 
And still, in ev'ry breeze that sweeps along, 
Resound faint echoes of his deathless song; 
And should my scene and his be much the same — 
I claim my lays, though they be e'er so tame, 
And humbly trust the lengthy verse I use 
May prove no hindrance to my infant Muse. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 



Canto I. 
I. 
Shall am'rotis themes engage the Muse no more, 
And fancy's wing unswayed by passion soar ? 
Shall bards forsake, at once, the rural scene 
While Woman's foot still tramps its herbage green? 
No one with Beauty's thralldom seeks to part, 
While her sweet smile still captivates his heart; 
None starts, self-exiled, from his native soil 
In distant climes to bear a life of toil ; 
None leaves his cot when drooping Age appears 
To chase the phantoms of his youthful years. 
Shall they who live when we have passed away, 
And sleep unmentioned in our beds of clay. 
Not woo their maids beneath our leafy bow'rs, 
Where once we paid like homage unto ours? 
This truth allowed, you grant me all my meed — 
Indulge my style; I hasten to proceed. 

II. 

On Georgia's soil, where minstrels charmed the wood 
That veiled her slopes and in her valleys stood, 



FALRO SYLWIN. 65 

Ere Blue and Gray had dipped their hands in blood. 
Or dire Rebellion shot its baleful bud — • 
On those bright slopes a race of rustics toiled, 
And loved the peace that others' actions spoiled. 
There, where broad lawns and meadows sloping green, 
With countless cots and hamlets dropped between 
And streams to their own music danced along, 
Was born and bred the hero of my song. 



III. 



In hut, with roof of boards and hearth of clay, 
His tender eyes first caught the light of day. 
That cot one window had with one low door. 
And great wide puncheons hewn into a floor; 
Round logs — the mighty woodlands' younger crop — 
Formed all its walls and served to brace the top ; 
But what had most the heart of Pomp amused, 
Nor brick nor stone the Architect had used. 
But paused till proud Invention's aid appeared, 
Then out of sticks and clay the chimney reared. 
In home like this he spent his infant years. 
Nor loved it less from Grandeur's taunts and jeers; 
In home like this young Falro Sylwin grew, 
And nothing more of wealth or comfort knew. 
But why delay to sketch his humble hearth, 
For sadder hut than his gave Genius birth? 



66 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

IV. 

O ye ! who boast of turret, dome, or grot, 
Laugh not to scorn the cotter's simple cot. 
Soon may ye pause to taste the happiness 
Such home affords, and learn to hate it less. 
Go, seek the rustic and his hovel can, 
To learn of him how man should feel for Man! 
Gk), and be taught that joys and comforts all 
Are not confined to Grandeur's painted hall. 
With open heart he yields his simple fare — 
They dream amiss who think his cupboard bare; 
One earnest glance may well reveal the truth 
That peace and love are inmates there in sooth; 
An hour's delay may teach thy biased mind 
Such home as his the happiest of mankind. 



V. 

The years rolled on — that child to boyhood grew. 
Lithe was his form and fair his face to view ; 
His eye possessed that deep and tender ray 
That shows the heart too noble to betray ; 
Soft locks of jet o'er his smooth temples hung, 
And gentle words were ever on his tongue. 
No comrade e'er had heard that tongue upbraid, 
Or seen that brow in angry frowns arrayed ; 
None knew the youth who dared to love him not; 
None met that eye that e'er its glance forgot. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 67 

O such was he when from this rude retreat 
The village school called forth his eager feet ! 



VI. 

'Twas Spring — that season gentle, bright, and fair, 
When all the world dispels its gloom and care — 
When Falro hied him from his cabin's door 
To lay the rude foundation of his lore. 
Across his dewy path wide-spreading trees 
Waved their dark boughs unto the od'rous breeze; 
Beside that path of ev'ry tint and hue 
The forest flowers swayed as the zephyrs blew; 
And eager still to get their food from these, 
Before him passed bright butterflies and bees. 
The East had caught the round Sun's lucid flame, 
And wild birds' lays from all the woodlands came. 
'Twas thus, o'er winding slope and dewy lawn, 
With bounding stride our tyro hastened on — 
-One hand his books and one his meal contained 
As step by step he near the temple gained. 



VII. 

Some Sages now whose eyes with age are dim 
Would not object to change their lots with him; 
And even he who sings would not deplore, 
Could time or chance his own child scene restore; 



68 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

For who so careful to perform his part 
As not to leave some sadness on his heart? 
And mighty men, who 'neath high marbles sleep, 
Could they from out their silent dungeons creep, 
Would dare to date their hopes of wealth and fame 
Back to that happy morn when thus they came. 
And e'en my own approach to learning's fane 
Left deep impressions on my youthful brain; 
But as my hero's loves demand my Lay, 
I leave my own unto some future day. 
What most we feel, perchance, is worst expressed, 
My heart is full — O Silence, keep the rest! 



VIII. 



As nearer to the house approached his feet 

Loud laughs were heard and whispers soft and sweet. 

O, they were there, that blithe and happy few. 

Who knew no care, nor disappointment knew ! 

He reached the yard, and passed the sportive throng. 

None paused to view him as he strolled along; 

But books were called as Falro reached the door. 

Then all surveyed the rustic student o'er; 

And as he stood beside the Master's knee 

Few of his age they found more learned than he: 

His parents, when their day's rude tasks were done, 

Beside the hearth at night had taught their son. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 69 

IX. 

On that bright morn young Falro's boyish heart 

Awoke in joy, and bade its fears depart; 

The Master, though a grave and frosty Sage, 

Had lost his fire and softened down with age; 

And TwiHght's calm stole gently on, and o'er 

His ev'ning skies where storms had raged before. 

His eye but seldom sent the burning rays 

That it was wont to shed in former days; 

And many a tyro's heart might well rejoice 

That Time had torn some harshness from his voice. 



X. 

There sat, with heart all love and eyes all fire, 
The Butcher's son as gen'rous as his sire; 
And they who may have known a nobler lad 
Knew hundreds more who less politeness had ; 
The Merchant's boy, not bright nor loved like he, 
Sat by his side bent o'er the "Rule of Three;" 
The Lawyer's and the pious Parson's son 
Sat smiling by with hearts in love with fun; 
On all alike their antic sports they played. 
And with the Doctor's son a trio made. 



XL 

O, when at times some studious youth or maid 
One moment claimed the grave old Master's aid. 



70 - WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Soon as his furrowed face was turned aside 
Huge paper balls their skill in soaring tried. 
While these, quail-like, sprang forth from ev'ry nook, 
What youthful eye could ponder o'er a book? 
And if caged Jollity e'er broke her bound, 
Ere the old Master's eye could gaze around. 
These busy three had banished every smile, 
And bent them o'er their books by cautious wile ; 
If caught, they felt quite conscious of their doom. 
And thus appeared the gravest in the room. 
Then if some knotty sum from Smiley's page 
Should worry him and all his wits engage. 
These jolly three kept all the school the while 
Afraid to laugh and too well pleased to smile. 



XII. 



The husbandmen all round the village near, 
Those honest souls, so gen'rous and sincere. 
Unto <"he village school had sent their boys 
To wear out books and help to make a noise: 
Those busy men, the nation's prop and pride, 
Had half through gratitude their aid supplied; 
For side by side the older half of these 
Our white-haired Tutor took his first degrees; 
The younger half their love of Learning caught 
In old-time country fanes where he had taught. 



FALRO SYLWIN. yt 

XIII. 

O, there sat many a sweet-faced little maid 

Whose laughing eyes her happy heart portrayed ! 

Those tender eyes, so used to smiles and tears, 

So shallow then but deep in after years; 

And he who stares when shining tear drops start 

Sees through their glossy depths into her heart. 

And she was there, the Miller's darling child — 

Although of tender heart, she seldom smiled; 

And she appeared the fairest of the Fair 

As there she sat with ribbons in her hair — 

So bright, so peaceful, and so innocent 

She seemed a nymph from Heaven's dominion sent. 

Our hero caught her eyes' deep-searching glance. 

And felt at once his eager pulses dance. 

That glance through all his heart's deep channels stole. 

And left a gleam of sunshine on his soul. 

The sway of such warm glance no heart defies, 

For Youth and Age are slaves to lovely eyes. 



XIV. 

We sometimes gaze adown the aisle of Time 
To childhood's day so brilliant and sublime, 
And there behold through Mem'ry's wakeful eye 
Bright days that sped like midnight visions by ; 
And sometimes through the mists of years behold 
Soul-thrilling eyes, and wavy locks of gold; 



72 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

And see again renewed in Mem'ry's glass 
The winni'ng smiles of many a bonny lass, 
And hear resound in Manhood's changing ear 
Her sad adieu when parting time was near. 

XV. 

O Muse! why wander forth in search of naught? 
Here have we now the hero that we sought ; 
And Leutra Vane, his charming little maid, 
Although in feeble lines quite ill portrayed. 
Their joys and loves we purpose to rehearse 
If not in smooth, perchance, not vulgar verse; 
AVe promise now to track them on their way 
P>om early morn unto the close of day, 
Relate their cares, their trials all relate, 
And view their tender partings at the gate; 
Be present ever and stand gazing on 
When their light feet press down the dewy lawn; 
Stand by unseen at Twilight's hour to hear 
His earnest words breathed in her list'ning ear; 
Attend them in the long bright summer's day, 
When deep'ning shades their homeward steps delay 
Gaze on with straining eye and heaving breast 
When melting lips to melting lips are pressed. 
But let us here request that ye who may 
Find time to waste in poring o'er our lay 
Contract not faults from us, but only sneer 
Where haste and ignorance are found to err. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 73 

XVI. 

That night when Falro pressed his humble bed 

Sweet dreams stole o'er his mind with easy tread, 

And she appeared, the bonny Leiitra Vane, 

His winsome lass from Beauty's bright domain. 

He gazed far down the frowning steeps of Time 

Through years, long years, unto his Manhood's prime ; 

Her gentle hand seemed pressed within his own. 

And they were by the cottage gate alone; 

Her whispers in his ear sweet music made, 

And loving looks her earnest eyes displayed. 

His question came — one moment more or less 

She paused, she blushed, she smiled, and whispered "Yes !" 

Then his to lips that breathed that word were placed, 

One moment he her melting form embraced — 

One moment ? ah ! though even in a dream. 

Such moments are much longer than they seem ! 



XVII. 

O happy Dreams ! ye of the midnight train, 
All busy somethings of the wakeful brain; 
Strange phantoms ye that o'er the mind parade, 
When in repose the drowsy limbs are laid; 
Dim shadows of events the future hides. 
Faint warnings ye of Fate's high-swelling tides ! 
O ye that Nature's poorest child may share. 
And with thy aid dethrone the tyrant Care! 



74 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Sweet Dreams ! I owe thee more of earnest praise 
Than I may e'er infuse into my lays ; 
For I've contracted through thy soft caress 
Some transient thrills of heartfelt Happiness. 

XVIII. 

When morning came, the night's long hours to close, 
Young Falro from his humble couch arose; 
The rising sun through his rude cabin's door 
Spilt his effulgence on the puncheon floor; 
While Falro's eye surveyed its uncouth seams, 
His busy mind brought back his midnight dreams. 
While thus he gazed the sunlight brighter grew, 
And breezes soft o'er his smooth temples blew, 
As on the threshold there his seat he made 
And far around the pleasing scene surveyed. 
He sat with swelling heart and dazzled brain, 
Half dreaming still of fair-haired Leutra Vane 
Until the dame, with heart o'erfuU of zeal. 
Bade him prepare to meet his morning meal. 



Canto II. 

I. 

The years passed on, and on, and so shall we ; 
His fourteenth came, a couple less had she. 
On many a day at school the two had met; 
But youthful love had grown not weary yet: 
Her maiden face to him was still as fair 
As when his eyes got tangled in her hair ; 
And he through his full heart could still descry 
The wonted charms that filled her glossy eye ; 
Her voice was music still unto his ear, 
And earth, all earth contained naught else so dear- 
In short, his heart was hers and hers was his — 
But hush ! for Beauty man's great Mecca is. 

II. 

On many a time, far back amid the past, 
Her loving looks on his fair face were cast ; 
On many a time her gentle bosom swelled 
At melting words from his soft lips impelled; 
And he had clasped her hand as if in play 
When his whole heart within its compass lay; 
In that firm grasp he felt that untame thing — 
That trembling chord, the heart's electric string. 



yd WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

O, when the bounding heart is all on flame, 
Who has not felt, who may not feel the same? 

III. 

One lovely morn when autumn's peaceful sway 
O'er ev'ry lawn, o'er ev'ry woodland lay, 
On ev'ry side the maize embrowning stood, 
And golden leaves were drifting from the wood. 
All, all the mirth that spring calls forth had gone, 
And autumn's sad, sad days were stealing on; 
All nature wore an aspect calm and mild — 
The lawn was brown where late the flow'rets smiled; 
Those blossoms in the withered grass reposed. 
Their smiles were o'er, their brilliant day had closed. 
That morn on sped the youth with books and slate ; 
The day was up, he reached the temple late. 
No one can tell how anxious she had grown — 
She whose bright eye caught rapture from his own, 
She in whose heart his own so fondly dwelt 
That language fails to tell the bliss they felt. 
None knows how oft she heard his coming feet, 
How oft through tears surveyed his empty seat. 

IV. 

We fear that some scant stores of knowledge gain. 
When Love thus agitates the youthful brain. 
Our hero came at last and took his seat. 
Some task at home had stayed his eager feet — 



FALRO SYLWIN. yy 

That trivial task in garden, barn, or field 
Made Leutra's heart to dark forebodings yield; 
But when he came her troubles disappeared, 
And Pleasure dwelt where Fear had temples reared. 



An hour wound on and recess came at last; 
Then Leutra close beside young Falro passed. 
A folded something in her hand she bore — 
O he, perchance, had spied the thing before ! 
She passed, in Falro's hand the note was placed. 
On, on she went as one might think in haste, 
And she appeared so thoughtless all the while 
That none perhaps beheld her cunning wile. 
At length he stepped aside to read the note. 
We ask your kind indulgence while we quote; 
And if our mem'ry fails us in the task, 
We ask her aid and her forgiveness ask. 



VI. 

**0, sir! of love, pure love, why need you speak, 
For childhood's blush is still upon my cheek? 
At Love's pure spring at times we seem to sip, 
When some foul slough sends poison to our lip. 
More thorns than flowers in ev'ry path appear; 
But few birds warble when the leaves are sear. 



78 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Of manhood's years your note had much to say — 
The time's afar and mountains cross the way; 
And when at length that year shall wind around, 
Then one or both may sleep within the ground; 
And should we live, perhaps the wide, deep brine 
May roll its waves between thy face and mine. 
If I should rest far off upon the hill, 
'Twere sad, too sad for thou to mourn me still. 
But why engage forebodings dark and sad, 
For childhood's day has yet no tempest had? 
'Tis true I love thee ; and let come what may. 
My heart is thine, thine e'en in childhood's day. 
On that bright morn in spring, six years agone, 
When thy brisk feet sped o'er the dewy lawn, 
Thy heart as light, perhaps, as free from gall. 
As e'er engaged in learning's busy hall; 
I stood beside the door and met thine eye 
As thou in homespun raiment passed me by. 
Such noble look, such grand and stately mien 
I ne'er had met, I ne'er before had seen." 

VII. 

But hush ! for the old school bell hoarsely rings, 
And ev'ry hill its solemn warning sings. 
Sad sound! Four couplets more her note contained 
O'er which our hero's eye had yet not strained; 
Four couplets more — the bell had ceased to sound. 
His time was up, and silence reigned around; 



FALRO SYLWIN. 79 

From off the yard had fled the noisy throng — 

He must be gone lest he delay too long. 

He folds the note, conceals it in his vest, 

And takes his seat — gloom on his mien impressed. 



VIII. 



Who has not been by lovely woman's side, 

And his own image in her eyes espied? 

And there worn all his stock of language out 

To prove the good a kiss might bring about? 

But baffled still, the blessing still denied, 

His mem'ry taxed a few more words supplied; 

And when at last she trembling whispered, *'Yes!" 

E^e he had time those tender lips to press 

The grave old dame came stumbling in the room 

To place aright the shovel, tongs, or broom. 

He who makes love to Beauty in his dream 

Sees features fair, soft locks, and eyes that gleam; 

She gives her hand, bestows her heart on him 

Beneath the vines at twilight soft and dim. 

Bright visions! but he wakes to see them fade 

Like sunset smiles by eastern hills delayed. 

O sad! thrice sad! to see such beauties melt — 

Thus paused the youth as much perplexed he felt 

When that deep tone upon his reverie broke. 

And in his heart a sense of duty woke. 



8o WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

IX. 

Four couplets more — O, what might they contain? 
Such thought oft passed o'er Falro's anxious brain. 
What love might they in simple words express, 
What fancies wake through heartfelt tenderness? 
'Twas plain that his own note, though brief and rude, 
Had kindled up her love and gratitude. 
Yes, his love note a few days past received, 
Read oft, much read, and ev'ry word believed. 
Ay, reader ! she received it as we said ; 
But who may copy what he ne'er had read? 
This truth made known, its absence should excuse 
And gain your pardon for my struggling Muse. 



Four couplets more, and how could Falro wait? 

The noontide hour had never come so late. 

He to his lessons tried his thoughts to bind — 

Those lessons were but little on his mind. 

It came at last what never came too soon, 

That welcome sound : "The spelling class for noon !' 

Up rose the group and circled round the room — 

A pleasant scene of freshness, life, and bloom. 

Each knew the place that he last occupied — 

Who stood at head and who on either side. 

But hold! I claim one retrospective view 

Of my own youth and my own comrades too; 



FALRO SYLWIN. 8l 

The brilliant youth or maid that then stood head 
Has since that day life's foremost classes led; 
The dunce that held the foot without regret 
Is struggling on with his position yet. 

XL 

The class was formed, forth stepped our rustic lad, 
Who by good care a decent Webster had ; 
And as he gave it to the frosty Sage 
He brushed his palm across the open page. 
That page was to that grand old region near 
Where long have dwelt the mastiff and the deer. 
Harsh words, and tangled too, that page embraced — 
O'er those same words our own sad eyes have traced ; 
When we besieged them first in their domain 
We found them tough, and tough some yet remain : 
Who captures all and leaves no straggling foe 
Plays well his part and deals a noble blow. 

XII. 

O Webster! thou great teacher of the age — 
Thy works lend light to Learning's brightest page; 
We owe thee more of heartfelt gratitude 
Than may be paid in numbers rough and rude; 
Thy name is heard from ev'ry schoolboy's tongue — 
Why have great poets not thy plaudits sung? 
To thee, from us, no empty praise is due, 
For thy rich volume with its back of blue; 
6 



82 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Though few its pages and in size quite small, 
More ne'er knew half than ever knew them all. 
We loathed it much in childhood's early years, 
And blistered all its pages with our tears; 
But time brings changes on to most of men — 
We love it now more than we loathed it then. 
But this brief work for youthful aid designed 
Was far too short to liberate thy mind ; 
And not content in these first gems to shine, 
It sought out all Orthography's rich mine. 
We praise thee for thy present to the page — 
Far more is due thy treasure to the sage. 
Take this brief tribute to our honored dead. 
For much is often meant where little's said. 



XIII. 



Kind reader, we your pardon claim in sooth; 

We love the sage and only sing the truth. 

Ye who in empty fiction seek to find 

Heartfelt delights or treasures for the mind 

Should leave our verse still struggling on its way. 

For heav'n-born truth lies couching in our lay. 

We use proud Fiction only for a wreath; 

Dig back the dirt, our gold is all beneath. 

Go deep if it at first is loath to shine ; 

They leave much wealth who dig a shallow mine. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 83 

XIV. 

We said the class was round the room arrayed; 

There side by side stood our brisk youth and maid — 

A soul-deHghting sight, a lovely scene: 

He fresh and fair; she graceful as a queen. 

No lighter heart e'er beat in human breast 

Than that which throbbed 'neath Falro's humble vest; 

No sweeter glance e'er came from Beauty's eye 

Than Leutra gave her lover standing by — 

Unless 'twas that which once its thraldom cast 

O'er my young heart far back amid the past. 

XV. 

\yho has not seen his happiest moments glide 
While thus he stood by budding Beauty's side? 
Who has not felt his heart's delight complete 
And gazed on Care a captive at his feet? 
Who asks the world for more of happiness 
Is Folly's fool and surely merits less. 
But why with unexpected thoughts detain 
Or waste the cream of an exhausted strain? 
For noon, long-wished-for noon, at last arrived — 
Then Falro's heart and drooping hopes revived. 



XVI. 

When done his simple meal, our hero strayed 
From the soft lawn where his gay comrades played; 



84 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Far off amid the grove he took his seat, 
And from his vest drew forth the sacred sheet. 
We had some fears, and some uneasiness too, 
Lest those four couplets should escape our view; 
But o'er those lines a moment's glance we gained; 
Here, then, accept the copy thus obtained: 

XVII. 

"O Falro! Falro! graceful, young, and fair — 

Thou object of my heart's sincerest care! 

Bright spring from whence my tides of rapture flow — 

My all in all of happiness below ! 

True source from whence my fondest hopes arise. 

The sun that light'st my intellectual skies ; 

Bright star that points unto the distant pole 

And sheds pure light o'er my enchanted soul !" 

XVIII. 

He gazed enraptured on the dainty sheet, 

But felt dismayed the end so soon to meet. 

What hours might he o'er words like these have spent, 

O'er lines like these that no harsh feeling meant? 

He passed some moments by in silence; then 

Began to read that message o'er again. 

His eye, intent to feast his mind anew, 

Dashed o'er the words and searched the missive thro' ; 

Marked lines where pure affection seemed to burn. 

Poor child ! much more has age for us to learn. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 85 

'Tis true her note gave pleasure to his heart, 
But we still think it only pleased in part ; 
For who may sing, or who in numbers scrawl 
Such words as fill our expectations all? 
How hard his task who seeks on earth to find 
Aught that may yield contentment to his mind! 

XIX. 

Such words as "Falro, graceful, young, and fair," 
Were quite enough to make a hero stare; 
And he, our youth, so thoughtful and so kind. 
Heard those high words reechoed in his mind. 
It seemed as if the feathered tribes above 
Were singing o'er those burning lays of love; 
It semed as if the brisk, autumnal breeze 
Wrought up those tones in soothing harmonies. 
But here our second Canto's end we find- — 
Be patient, friends, for four are yet behind. 



Canto III. 



Hail, happy hours of youth ! ye moments bright, 

When hope was buoyant and my heart was light ! 

O blissful years ! 'twould soothe my gloomy brain 

Again to frolic o'er thy bright domain. 

The wood then looked so green, the grove so cool, 

So bright the ripples on the glassy pool 

When the smooth stone that soared awhile in air 

Dropped in its breast to sleep forever there. 

More blossoms then beside my pathway grew 

Than manhood's years have ever brought to view; 

The bright lark from the pear tree's topmost bough 

Sang sweeter lays than e'er he warbles now ; 

One breeze then brought more fragrance on its wing 

Than now the winds of half a season bring; 

Then Burns's songs of bliss could yield me more 

Than all the earth now seems to have in store. 

II. 

On many a time in absence of the wain 
Our hero sought the mill astride his grain; 
And ere the sun had climbed the Eastern hill 
His bag of grist had reached the mossy mill. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 87 

And Falro there oft lingered, silence bound, 

To watch the huge old wheel go round and round ; 

Or paused beside the mill pool and descried 

His shadow caught in its transparent tide. 

Nor were these all the charms for Falro there ; 

O, no, by half not all that claimed his care! 

The Miller's cot a few short steps away 

Stood glist'ning in the golden light of day; 

The yard was neat and the smooth steps of stone 

As white as e'er the cliffs of Dover shone. 

III. 

The Miller's lass at times came down those steps 
To bathe her soul in Falro's eyes' bright depths. 
She loved the youth, nor he her fondness spurned, 
For his own breast with honest passion burned. 
There side by side they strolled about the mill, 
Or sported on the gently sloping hill, 
Or paused with heartfelt rapture to survey 
The smiling town that spread before them lay. 
They talked of love; but who would have me tell 
What all mankind by practice knows so well? 
Ah! many and happy were those stolen hours, 
But fools alone expect a path of flowers. 

IV. 

That fall and winter passed as others had 
By our fond maid and her devoted lad 



88 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Till fiery Sol through Heav'n's high portals stole 
And bound hoarse Winter to his frozen pole ; 
Then Nature breathed and struggled to disperse 
Her bosom strokes throughout the universe, 
And led that season on for birds and flowers — 
For lovers' stolen walks among the bowers. 
Thrice thro' those groves had strayed the comely pair, 
But pleasure oft seems harbinger of care ! 
One eve as Falro turned to leave her side 
In Leutra's hand he something white descried. 
She gave it with reluctance; on he went, 
Convinced that Leutra's tears no folly meant. 
Not far away had thinking Falro sped 
Before he paused and that brief missive read. 
We give those lines and earnestly expect 
To rouse no critic's wrath by sheer neglect. 

V. 

"Alas ! thrice dearer to my soul thou art 
Since late transactions show that we must part; 
Sweet Peace, companion from my earliest day, 
Now plumes her wing to speed her flight away, 
And leaves her long since chosen happy home 
To nurture Care beyond the ocean's foam; 
And Hope, that plant a wreath of which I wore, 
Has doffed its flower and ne'er may blossom more. 
In Albion's isle, from whence my father came, 
A large inheritance awaits his claim. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 89 

The mossy mill and all our treasures here, 

Now sold, shall soon in stranger hands appear. 

These things have cast their shadows o'er my mind, 

With many more that nestle still behind; 

No need have we for more of wealth or rank — 

My sire had idle thousands in the bank. 

I care no more for grandeur, pomp, and wealth 

Than just as aids to comfort, ease, and health. 

The richest slave that e'er his freedom sold 

Has sacked up Care in ev'ry bag of gold. 

Just two more days and I must bid adieu 

To all our haunts, and, last of all, to you ; 

Then meet me on the down to-morrow's eve — 

O sad, sad day ! the next I take my leave. 

My life, my love" — Here she her words suppressed, 

Though tear stains on the sheet told all the rest. 

VI. 

The stream that gathers on the sloping mead 
Winds on its way 'neath many a blooming weed, 
Where butterflies take rest and tireless bees 
Sing o'er and o'er their well-known harmonies; 
Nor bloom nor song has yet had power to stay 
The streamlet on its silver winding way ; 
From the cool grove its limpid tides are borne, 
Regardless though rich blooms its shores adorn; 
Through woodlands dark it seeks its course designed, 
And leaves the groves and meadows far behind. 



90 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Ah! none to hear it murmur, laugh, and hiss 
Would think it soon to leap the precipice; 
As nearer still the rocks and cHffs advance 
More brisk and wild the sparkling ripples prance, 
Till all at once it leaps some rocky height, 
A distance quite appalling to the sight. 
Thus flows Life's stream in gentleness along 
O'er meadows green, through groves profuse in song; 
But soon these pleasing haunts are things that were, 
Then rugged rocks and frowning cliffs appear. 



VII. 



The morning came of that eventful day. 

Had Falro sighed the previous night away? 

We pause to let earth's older sons reply, 

For some have shared such fate in years gone by; 

And our fond youth is not the only one 

That some sad, parting hour has left undone. 

That morning came ; the hours dragged on and on ; 

Hope's sunshine from our hero's heart had gone. 

The forenoon past, and sober ev'ning came 

To bathe the earth in Heav'n's pellucid flame; 

Away o'er hill and vale our hero sped, 

With falt'ring heart, with brisk, impatient tread. 

And, step by step, approached what he must leave 

Ere twilight's veil dropped o'er the brow of eve. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 91 

VIII. 

O Muse! thy heart to tenderness unbind, 
If yet one melting verse remains behind. 
The World — that critic, stern and oft severe — 
Through sympathy may not denounce it here; 
And some might greet its presence with a wink, 
Some who have stared o'er Fate's disastrous brink ; 
For some erect the tomb of vanished Bliss 
On some such painful, parting hour as this ; 
Some one that ev'ning from her bosom cast 
To christen Hope a martyr of the past. 
Some now in dreams behold an angel's face, 
And clasp her glowing form in fond embrace, 
Brush the sad tears from her soft cheek and fair. 
And with warm lips place melting kisses there. 



IX. 

Our hero's heart and step both lighter grew, 
When from afar the village caught his view. 
At last he reached the grove, and she was there, 
The young, fair object of his fondest care; 
With graceful step advanced the comely maid 
And met the youth beneath the beechen shade. 
They met with tears — her soft hand clasped in his 
Told much of Love's mysterious mysteries; 
They'd met to part — no human form was nigh — 
One moment gazed he in her glossy eye; 



92 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Then her soft Hps in quietude sustained 

The first warm kiss they e'er from his obtained; 

And forthwith to his gently heaving breast 

Her young, fair form he fondly, warmly pressed. 

His heart went wild, it ne'er had beat so high, 

And tears of joy stood trembling in his eye. 

Pure bliss! But why should I thus seek to show 

What those fond hearts ne'er wish the world to know ? 

X. 

As they strolled slowly on the youth began — 
Childlike, 'tis true, nor much unlike a man: 
'T read your note; and if I read aright, 
This eve we part — blight ! blight ! O horrid blight ! 
Shall then strike my fair bud of promise low, 
Long, long, ere its appointed time to blow. 
You meant not such; it must not, cannot be. 
None e'er loved more, but many less than we. 

say you meant not such ! Some years ago 
When Passion's tide began to ebb and flow 
That sea bird Hope took shelter in my breast. 
And now begins to feather o'er her nest. 

1 know it true, but yet I can't believe 

That we must part on this resplendent eve." 

XI. 

He ceased to speak ; his tears began to rise. 
Sad tears as e'er appeared in Sappho's eyes; 



FALRO SYLWIN. 93 

And still he paused, but she forbore to speak, 
For scalding tears were on her crimson cheek. 
What need to speak when all that might be said 
Would only cause more burning tear drops shed ? 



XII. 

Then silence breathless, long, and deep ensued — 
Our hero's heart was nerved with fortitude. 
She spoke at last, nor longer dared withhold 
Words precious then to him as gems of gold ; 
She poured no sentence that his ear drank not, 
And breathed no word he e'er in life forgot: 
'Tf words may tear the lifeblood from my heart, 
All, all that need be said is, we must part; 
If these sad ones failed to perform the task, 
What more need fiends to seek, what more to ask? 
How can I live to part with that which shares 
My being's warmth and my most fervent prayers? 
How can I leave my all of life behind, 
Nor let dun clouds shut sunlight from my mind? 
Shall I not feel like some lost, lonely bird 
That pours out all its melting heart unheard? 
Or like some tender flower upon the bray 
From mortal's path long miles on miles away 
That bloomed all unobserved by human eye 
And shed its soul on winds that sported by?" 



94 " WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

But here she paused in deepest thought to muse — 
The lips we love the sweetest language use. 

XIII. 

Beneath the bending beech, there side by side 
They took their seat that lovely ev'ning tide. 
He grew impatient and his heart unsealed — 
Through all that heart her recent numbers pealed; 
Unsealed his heart to let its fountains out, 
And spill Love's sparkling crystals all about. 
She turned her eye, his handsome face to scan — 
With heart o'erfull of fondness, he began: 

XIV. 

"Ay ! many a bird whose heart is doomed to ache 
Sings songs of love amid the lifeless brake; 
And many a flower for man's attention sues 
That blends the sunset's with the rainbow's hues; 
Bright ornaments, meet for Elysian fields, 
But man's cold heart no meed of homage yields. 
But we are young, and all the songs we sing 
May be renewed in some more potent spring; 
Yes, young, and time may bring that moment on— 
Yea, after all our childhood days are gone — 
When Falro shall in his clasp Leutra's hand 
As they before the lighted altar stand. 
Then dry thy tears and grieve thy heart no more- 
Love knows no waste his feet dare not explore." 



FALRO SYLWIN. 95 

But why rehearse for all mankind to hear 
What Falro meant for one fond maiden's ear? 

XV. 

They rose; his arms her glowing form embraced 
Before their feet their homeward path retraced. 
And more than once, as commonly occurs, 
Her lips were joined to his and his to hers. 
We need not tell if those fond bosoms met, 
Or that her tears made both their faces wet; 
Nor strive to tell how hard young lovers press — 
They who have loved are here allowed to guess. 
O, 'twas their last embrace ! 'twas tender too, 
And far from ev'ry bold intruder's view. 
Now ye so pious grown, should this offend. 
Go waste your lives, go teach the world to mend ; 
Go forth, from human hearts such lewdness chase, 
Go, and be styled the blockheads of your race. 

XVI. 

On, on they strolled, and reached the gate at last — 
O sad, sad parting eve, too swiftly passed! 
That mighty moment came, the sun was low ; 
They clasped their hands before he turned to go ; 
Her trembling hand unto his lips he drew — 
Gazed in her streaming eyes and bade adieu; 
And then a moment's mighty silence came 
Ere her sweet lips had echoed back the same. 



96 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

He went ; far off upon his homeward track ; 

He waved his hand, she waved her kerchief back. 

XVII. 

He who can boast of one loved form to-day 
May weep to-morrow o'er its swift decay; 
He who to-day enclasps one loving heart 
May spend to-morrow miles on miles apart; 
He who to-day has met some thrilling eye 
May nevermore that tender orb descry; 
He who to-day has pressed some parting lip 
Ne'ermore may its delicious nectar sip. 



Canto IV. 

I. 

Kind reader, if thus far we've toiled in vain 
To win your heart and your applause to gain, 
We know not now what long excuse to make, 
What lay begin or where that strain to break. 
Should we attempt with stranger things to please, 
Our numbers then might rumble worse than these. 
Besides, we seek not Falsehood to befriend — 
Our moral grows to blossom at the end ; 
And to be plain, since Truth alone endures. 
We seek our own applause not less than yours. 

II. 

Our tone must change, for Falro's heart is changed, 
Erewhile o'er pleasant fields his footsteps ranged; 
But far away across the boiling main 
His hopes had gone with bonny Leutra Vane; 
And Leutra felt like some lone exile feels 
Who climbs unto the ship's high top and steals 
One parting glance upon his native shore — 
Bright land his anxious feet shall press no more. 
The great ship o'er the blue waves on and on 
Bore all that Falro's heart could dote upon, 

7 



98 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

And left the youth with broken heart to moan 
And view his childhood's happy haunts alone. 
He viewed those haunts in tears, but need we tell 
How sad his heart, how fast his tear drops fell? 
The first firm ties that bind the tender heart 
Are those that time depends on death to part. 

III. 

The brightest morn leads forth the darkest night 
The heaviest hearts are those that once were light 
Our dearest friends are those we seldom see; 
The softest vine enclasps the roughest tree. 
If we the solar orb's first smiles secure, 
Dark, rolling clouds his parting rays obscure; 
If hope in youth with flow'rs our path adorns, 
When needed most those blossoms turn to thorns 
And Falro found through many a future year 
The truth of what we've dared to venture here. 
No lighter heart e'er beat in human breast, 
But floods of care that happy heart depressed. 

IV. 

The good ship on o'er beds of golden ore 
And ocean caves her living treasures bore ; 
O'er caverns deep for ocean monsters made, 
And pointed rocks no eye had e'er surveyed, 
She kept her course as if by Heav'n designed, 
And beat the waves to foam and froth behind; 



FALRO SYLWIN. 

The breeze was fair; it much reUeved her toil 
And served as escort to proud Britain's soil. 
None thought that voyage longer on the main 
Than did our lass, the fair-haired Leutra Vane. 
No frothy swell against that vessel beat, 
No blue wave leaped or danced beneath her feet, 
Or zephyr filled o'erfull the whitening sail. 
But brought to mind her own dear native vale 
And him whose features made that vale so bright 
Ere her loved sire began his homeward flight. 

V. 

At last the vessel reached that classic shore, 
That far-famed land I learned to love of yore — 
That distant soil by thoughtful sons made known 
At evVy pole, in ev'ry clime and zone; 
No other land in my enamored heart, 
Except my own, may claim a nobler part. 
Methinks I may not yield my parting breath 
And never close mine eyes content in death 
Unless I yet may gaze a little while 
Through Plenty's eye on far-off Britain's isle. 

VI. 

They reached the shore, and Leutra's sire received 
The gold that had his homeward flight achieved ; 
Her grandsire's home on winding Avon's shore 
But added wealth to his abundant store; 



99 



lOO WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

And there, with cheerful wife and lovely lass, 
He sought to let life's ev'ning shadows pass. 
In that old mansion spaciously arranged 
He toil and haste for luxury exchanged. 

VII. 

Three months had passed ere our sad youth received 
From Leutra's hand what much his heart relieved — 
That note was penned beneath her arbor vines, 
And sounded thus when cut to measured lines : 
"The seas were calm, no angry storm prevailed; 
We sailed in peace, in ease and comfort sailed. 
'Tis true loud surges lashed the mighty ship, 
But seamen styled it 'such a quiet trip,' 
The good ship wheeled us o'er the watery plain — 
We sought fair Britain's shore, nor sought in vain. 
I thought of thee, of all thy love and mine 
When wafted far upon the swelling brine; 
I thought of thee and of thy last adieu — 
That solemn thought rent all the chords anew; 
I wept, and would if then the taunts and jeers 
Of all mankind made mock'ry of my tears ; 
Yes, wept; alas! how could I help but weep 
When all my heart was wand'ring o'er the deep? 

VIII. 

Three days we paused in busy London's heart — 
That mighty place, the world's prodigious mart; 



FALRO SYLWIN. lOl 

Three days we paused our business to prepare. 
It seemed that all the human race was there; 
Yes, there from ev'ry country, clime, and zone, 
And each it seemed had business of his own. 
From thence we strayed to sportive Avon's side, 
And by that classic stream we still reside. 
O, what may all my former bliss restore, 
If thou are doomed to meet my sight no more? 
How sad the fate that now remains for me: 
An empty breast — my heart all gone to thee ! 
Alas! my days and nights so long will seem 
When no sweet smile, no loving eye may gleam 
To drive away the darkening clouds that roll 
Their midnight gloom o'er my despondent soul. 
It brings relief to think in six years more 
That I shall greet thee at my mansion's door. 

IX. 

You promised such beside the groaning mill 

One lovely eve, and I beheve it still; 

Yes, I have confidence enough in you 

To think you'll strive to make your promise true. 

That ev'ning when you asked my heart of me 

The question seemed so much like mockery; 

You surely knew that you my heart possessed — 

I thought I felt thine beating in my breast. 

When six more years their weary rounds have run, 

Joined heart and hand, may Heav'n make us one !" 



102 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Here closed her note — in postscript form was placed 
The last ten lines her billet-doux embraced. 



X. 

There by the gate that opens to the lane 
We now are forced to part with Leutra Vane; 
Nor know that we shall evermore behold 
Her deep blue eyes, her wavy locks of gold; 
We know not yet where Falro's feet may stray, 
But unto him confine our straggling lay. 



XL 

At once the youth in haste this billet sent, 
And for no eye but loving Leutra's meant: 
*'Weep not, sweet Leutra, o'er bright moments past- 
Dark is the gloom, but shall not ahvays last ! 
Know that a thousand tender hearts may bleed 
O'er more than Fate has yet to us decreed. 
Weep not; my heart to love is yet as true 
As when in tears I bade that last adieu ; 
Those six brief 3^ears shall soon have drifted on 
Like twilight shades across the dewy lawn ; 
And should my life be spared until that day, 
I'll leave my cot and haste my steps away. 
O, what could keep me from that loving maid 
To whom my heart its earliest homage paid ? 



FALRO SYLWIN. I63 

XIL 
I scarce could sleep while thou wert on the main, 
And sighed for thee, my darling Leutra Vane ; 
I suffered much, for each brisk wind that blew 
Rent ev'ry chord that e'er had bled for you; 
I wept when nights were stormy, wild, and dark, 
And trembled for thy tempest-driven bark. 
I long have heard of angry storms that sweep 
Their dark'ning folds across the groaning deep. 
Oft in my sleep by frightful dreams beset 
These thy lone vessel in mid-ocean met ; 
I saw the waves like writhing monsters rise, 
And pitch their horrid points unto the skies ; 
I saw the great ship sink into her grave, 
Then shoot to heav'n upon the craggy wave. 
A moment thus she stood, she staggered, and 
Then dropped to plow great furrows in the sand; 
I saw the whirlwind frightful, grim, and dark 
Drop from the clouds and dance to meet thy bark. 

dreadful sight! distressing to behold! 
Like mountains high the frothy billows rolled; 
On, on he sped, nor sought his speed to slack. 
The maddened waves were parted in his track — 
Soul-freezing sight! — my pulses ceased to beat. 
But I awoke before the two could meet. 

Yes, and so vivid these impressions seemed 

1 scarce could think that they were only dreamed. 



104 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

XIII. 

Though sad my heart and tears came in a stream, 

I felt relieved to find it all a dream ; 

But let me not my midnight fears explain. 

For thou art safe beyond the rolling main — 

Yes, safe at last, and thou shalt yet be mine 

If I should live to cross the boiling brine." 

Here closed his note — 'twas folded, smoothly pressed, 

Enveloped, sealed, and decently addressed. 

We hinted once that he this missive sent, 

And so he did — off in the mail it went. 

That it was mailed we think you understand. 

To her address, though never reached her hand. 

In those old times, ere mails were sent in haste, 

Devoted hearts in careless hands were placed. 



XIV. 

Three long, long months had rolled their cycles by, 
And Leutra's hand had furnished no reply. 
How long those months appeared, I need not tell; 
They who have met such trials know too well. 
He could not think why Leutra thus should wrong 
His earnest heart by keeping still so long; 
He knew not that his note had been misplaced. 
But thought her heart had long its truths embraced. 
Neglected mails have caused some dire mistakes — 
A million sighs, a million sad heartaches; 



FALRO SYLWIN. 105 

Ay ! forced hot tears from many a brilliant eye 
And in young hearts snapped the last tender tie. 

XV. 

Then three more months sped on, and on the same — 

He waited still, and still no answer came; 

His nights were long, his days were dark and sad — 

All gone, those cheerful thoughts that once he had. 

He told his heart that Leutra was no more. 

And strove to think his dream of rapture o'er. 

He thought of all that Leutra e'er had said, 

And even tried to think that she was dead. 

In doubt a hope will kindle now and then — 

At times he thought to see her face again; 

And could he but have known that Britain's isle 

Then held one heart that moaned him all the while, 

Or even dreamed his answer had been lost, 

A second sheet had soon been tempest-tossed ; 

Yes, had he known her waiting for his note, 

Six months had not slipped by before he wrote. 

But this he could not know, and they had gone 

Ere from his hand a second sheet went on; 

And let us here those lines in verse present 

That wand'ring o'er the waste of waters went. 

XVI. 

"Long have I waited, waited long in vain, 
Nor came thy answer to relieve my pain; 



Io6 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

One hasty line that told no truth amiss 

Had poured into my heart great floods of bliss, 

Let sunlight fall from skies more calm and clear, 

And saved mine eyes of many a midnight tear. 

Though long delayed, I still expect the line 

To tell me thou art living still, and mine. 

I've seen thee often in my dreams at night — 

Heard thy soft voice, and heard thy footsteps light, 

Beheld thy silken tresses ride the breeze 

As when we stood beneath the beechen trees; 

Beheld thee oft before me smiling stand, 

And clasped in mine as oft thy tender hand. 

The world for me was bright and cheerful then, 

But darker now than Misery's woeful den ! 

If Heav'n's hand dealt not with me in wrath, 

Why came an angel form across my path? 

Why let me meet and homage pay the flow'r 

Meant to adorn Elysium's brightest bow'r?" 

XVII. 

Few sheets from sadder-hearted men have gone 
Across the broad Atlantic's billows on. 
Alas ! poor soul ! how could his heart but burst ? 
His second note went forth to meet the first; 
And side by side the two their treasures kept — 
Yes, side by side in some wastebasket slept. 
And she for whom those billets were designed 
Knew not in what dark corner they reclined. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 

She, too, had waited long, but all for naught — 
They never came to greet the hand they sought. 
In that obscure retreat when first they met 
They sank to sleep, and may be sleeping yet. 

XVIII. 

Ye who have sown your billets to the breeze, 
How had ye fared if they had fared like these? 
He fain had sent them on, though e'er so slow ; 
He did his duty, but they failed to go. 
What mighty change a few brief years may bring! 
Our love notes now engage the eagle's wing. 



107 



Canto V. 



I. 



Alas ! in grief as well as happiness 

The years press on ; they ever onward press. 

They longest seem when we are troubled most — 

The wildest sea engulfs the wildest coast ; 

O'er roughest roads the barest feet are driv'n, 

And near life's close more poison drugs are giv'n. 

IL 

How restless we become when that is lost 
Which has in time our heart's whole homage cost ! 
With mind distressed, we seek our wonted ease: 
We take to drink; we ride the raging seas; 
We seek to lose our cares on beds of snow 
In regions where the boreal tempests blow. 
In far-off Southern climes we strive to find 
That mighty boon — contentment for the mind. 
From these returned the task seems but begun, 
With rising hopes we chase the setting sun; 
We see his face in Ocean's lap repair ; 
We find his bed, but not our comfort there. 
Still, still unblest, led on by phantoms vain, 
We seek his face emerging from the main; 



FALRO SYLWIN. 109 

We see the wave that first his luster caught, 
But fail to find the blessing that we sought. 
Vain, vain the search, in ev'ry instance vain; 
But numbers thus seek comfort to regain. 
O, why delay the end with thoughtless song? 
Our hero, too, was one amid the throng. 

III. 

Lo! at this stage of Falro's troubles came 

Our nation's thirst for conquest, wealth, and fame ; 

She sought to hoard that isolated gem — 

The brightest star now in her diadem. 

Alone it stood contending for its own, 

Too weak to bear its struggles all alone. 

We sighed to see its wreath of glory fade 

While begging us to lend a hand to aid. 

'Twas hard to have it wrested from our clutch, 

As it possessed some things we needed much. 

'Twas more, we thought, than justly should be done, 

And stepped aside to save the lonely one. 

To this same kindness on our part we owe 

Our bloody war with barb'rous Mexico. 

IV. 

In that fierce struggle proud Virginia's son 
Immortal praise, immortal honors won; 
He led the few untaught, unknown to yield 
Through blood and fire o'er Palo Alto's field : 



no WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

O'er Buena Vista's rocks, with carnage red, 
His conq'ring band the brave old soldier led ; 
At Monterey, that blood-dyed battle plain, 
The grave old chief belabored not in vain. 
But think ye not such glorious vict'ry's won 
Without the loss of many a noble son; 
For when the battlefield gives Fame her birth 
Some precious blood must stain the gaping earth. 



Who has not seen on hist'ry's bloody page 
Where fighting fell the son of Ashland's sage? 
Alas ! who has not seen or may not see 
On that same page where fell the brave McKee? 
And Hardin too, not less renowned than they, 
On that same field on that disastrous day 
Received the wound that closed his task below 
While urging his brave comrades on the foe. 
But why go on o'er hist'ry's frightful page, 
Those records stained in ev'ry clime and age? 
Yes, why retrace those gory deeds again. 
Those annals of the cruel sons of men? 
For history at best is nothing more 
Than volumes huge, all red with human gore. 

VI. 

On those dire fields some gallant soldiers fell 
Of whose brave deeds no poet's song will tell; 



FALRO SYLWIN. Ill 

They sank unwept upon a foeman's shore, 
For these were they who no commission bore ; 
And others there as youthful and as brave 
In those fierce struggles their assistance gave. ' 
Of these brave lads stern hist'ry mentions naught, 
For this reward they struggled, toiled, and fought. 
Of these was one, with features fair to see, 
A brave, bold youth, and Falro Sylwin he. 
To change life's dull routine our hero sought. 
Not martial fame by some so dearly bought; 
Nor glitt'ring wealth had he gone out to find. 
But greater still — his former peace of mind. 
O who would live and drag life's horrors on 
When hope and joy had gone, forever gone? 
Or who might live contented and alone 
With Peace subdued and driven from her throne ? 
The loss of these constrained his step to roam, 
Though fertile fields lay spread for him at home. 

VII. 

His home, although with many a blessing fraught, 
Had not those heartfelt comforts that he sought ; 
He and the stately marble long had wept 
Where on the hill his loving mother slept; 
And he who to the son no bliss denied 
There mold'ring lay in silence by her side. 
Sweet flow 'rets there, above his honored dead, 
Had Falro's hand in bygone moments spread; 



112 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

There weeping stood the willow o'er, and there 
Between the graves stood Falro's oaken chair, 
Which many and many a time had been his seat 
While burning tears were falling at his feet. 

VIII. 

A nice, neat fence inclosed the sacred square, 
Where 'neath the sod in peace reposed the pair, 
Who made our hero's morn of life so bright. 
And she was gone whose face had added light; 
He knew not where her gentle footsteps strayed 
Or where perchance her mold'ring bosom laid; 
But bade his parents' graves a long good-by, 
Not knowing when they next would meet his eye; 
And thus o'erfull of sadness, gloom, and woe 
Went forth to lose his load in Mexico; 
And if he lost his earthly life instead, 
His rest is sweet who sleeps on Glory's bed. 

IX. 

He fought where Hardin, Clay, and Ringgold fell, 
And silence sank upon the heart of Yell; 
He heard the shouts, beheld the lancers run 
When Vista's hard-fought field was dearly won ; 
He saw the Chief astride his milk-white steed 
Lead on his men at no reluctant speed; 
He heard his voice between the cannons' roar 
That called them on to dip their hands in gore; 



FALRO SYLWIN, 1 13 

He felt the shock, beheld the cannons' flame 
When daring May close on the batt'ry came: 
Calm, cool, and moveless as the marble rock 
That hardy band sustained the cannons' shock. 
Rash act ! but, true to brave La Vega's fame. 
Those cruel guns belched forth great sheets of flame. 
Despite the dying groans and battle's noise, 
Was heard the shout: "On, on, my gallant boys!" 

X. 

On, on they marched, and Taylor held his breath — 

It seemed so like the mockery of death ! 

La Vega, bold as wild beast in his den, 

Stood by his guns and shouted to his men. 

The filth of battle so besmeared his face, 

He seemed the ghoul of some unearthly race; 

Among his fallen men, undaunted he 

Stood o'er those guns and fought for victory; 

But gallant May paused not to think of death ; 

He fought to conquer, or to yield his breath. 

XI. 

The guns were captured twice, and twice regained. 
Despite the loss that either side sustained; 
But May at length his courage woke anew, 
Then took them and their brave commander too. 
One hardy wretch in thoughtfulness and haste 
Bewrapped the flag around his bleeding waist; 
8 



114 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Then turned to flee, but through exhaustion .fell — 
Gazed on his flying friends and bade farewell! 
With this Resaca's bloody field was won, 
And ceased the echo of the murd'rous gun. 
But let me not those struggles here rehearse, 
If I'm to sing them in heroic verse. 

XII. 

O, who shall say or who on earth declare 
That Falro's thoughts were always struggling there? 
Who knows but that his heart long vigils kept 
Upon the hill where his loved parents slept? 
Or knows but that in thought he offered prayer 
And knelt to shed a few more tear drops there? 
At times perchance his heart had gone to weep 
O'er Leutra Vane across the boiling deep. 

XIII. 

At length the time wheeled round, not undesired, 
When Falro's term of servitude expired. 
He and his comrade left the gory plain 
For brighter fields, where waved the golden grain ; 
Far from the noise and strife that battle brings 
They turned away to mix with gentler things ; 
And dovelike Peace, with smiles upon her face, 
Wooed them again unto her fond embrace. 
Farewell, ye terrors, and ye toils of war! 
Ye trumps that call the veterans from afar ! 



'FALRO SYLWIN. 115 

With less of strife my Muse shall mingle now, * 
And whisper more of Beauty's bonny brow. 

XIV. 

How vain is man, e'en in his deepest thought, 
By folly led and not by reason taught ! 
He goes amiss who flies to leave behind 
The gloomy forms that revel in his mind; 
He toils for naught who mingles with the gay 
And strives to dance his load of cares away. 
Too soon shall cease the violin's trembling sound^ 
Too soon disperse the lovely faces round; 
Then solitude reverts unbidden back, 
And bends his mind beneath its wonted pack. 
Thus Falro toiled, and thus to his dismay 
Brought back the same sad heart he bore away. 

XV. 

Our war-worn soldier neared his home at last; 
The village first and next the mill was passed. 
'Twas late at night, the air came fresh and cool. 
The moon cast his long shadow on the pool ; 
That mill pool where in happy years gone by 
Sweet glances he had caught from Leutra's eye; 
There by that pool in life's best moments played 
One little boy, one happy little maid. 
Our soldier paused — there stood the mossy mill, 
There spread the broad, old mill pool calm and still ; 



Ii6 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Before him rose her mansion tall and white, 
But where was Leutra on that lonely night? 
There stood the gate where fast his tear drops fell 
When from her lips he caught her last farewell. 
Her tender hand in his there trembled last; 
She there on him her parting glances cast. 
Before that gate their last fond vows were made, 
And Leutra's heart its tenderness displayed; 
With kerchief there she waved her last adieu. 
And there her angel form last met his view. 
If that for Falro was not hallowed ground, 
Hard is our task if such must yet be found. 

XVI. 

At length upon the old familiar road 
Our sad-souled and belated soldier strode; 
His feet had paced it o'er and o'er again, 
But ne'er before with heart so sad as then. 
Great changes in a few short years are made — 
Great projects foiled by orders disobeyed; 
Some hearts are broken by one cruel word. 
Sad souls made happy by some cheerful bird; 
Great comforts are destroyed by needless haste, 
Great pyramids erected out of paste ! 

XVII. 

On, on our soldier stalked — a mile of earth 
Lay 'twixt him yet and his paternal hearth; 



FALRO SYLWIN. II7 

A long, long mile unpleasant guest to meet 

At midnight hour, with tired and blistered feet. 

The minutes passed like shadows o'er his mind 

As step by step he put that mile behind. 

At last his dear old mansion came in sight; 

It slumb'ring stood in Scynthia's silver light. 

He reached the gate that his own hand had made, 

And hailed the house ; the drowsy watch dog bayed. 

He hailed again, and heard the lonely owl 

Make mockery of the mastiff's earnest growl; 

And louder yet he called, at which arose 

His youthful friend from midnight's soft repose, 

Into whose charge he had that home consigned 

While he pursued that which he failed to find. 

XVIII. 

Two years had rolled their weary cycles on, 
Two long, long years to him had come and gone. 
Since Falro closed that gate behind him last; 
And he by many a little gate had passed 
Where girls, despite maternal glances sour, 
With youth had oft delayed the parting hour. 
But hark ! the door was spread, the candle's flame 
Came stealing out; then Falro's tenant came; 
He bade the watch dog to his bed repair. 
Then called to know who at the gate was there. 
Our soldier spoke, the tenant knew him then, 
And welcomed him back to his home again. 



Il8 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY, 

XIX. 

Ye who have tracked my idle Muse thus far 
Through childhood's realm and Santa Anna's war, 
And viewed my weakness with a critic's eye 
In half the lines on ev'ry page gone by, 
If I have yet not worn your patience through, 
Read on! I've other stuff in store for you. 
And ye who looked at first for numbers pure, 
Nor here nor there a blunder could endure, 
Go try your hand, and be convinced in age 
That faulty verse appears in ev'ry page. 



Canto VI. 

I. 

A week passed on, the news soon spread afar 
That they had come — -those gallants from the war. 
'Twas then the custom of the young and gay 
To meet at dark and dance the night away. 
The first grand ball at Falro's home took place, 
At which appeared the gay and fair of face. 
The violin's chords were struck by one old slave 
In whose rude grasp they melting numbers gave; 
His hand had learned to strike the strings aright 
And fill the souls of hearers with deHght; 
Nor was this all, as you perchance predict, 
One blew the flute and one the banjo picked; 
And Falro, ere he faced the gleaming steel, 
Before these three had danced off many a reel. 

II. 

But hold ! ere we the merry dance begin 
I should a few stray couplets here crowd in. 
Lest my most earnest reader should deplore 
Our ball's hard fate upon a puncheon floor. 
The soldier's home was not that old-time cot 
Of which we spoke, but near the same old spot. 



I20 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Just up the road when ease and plenty came 
His sire had reared a castle for his dame. 
It stood upon as fair a spot of earth 
As man e'er sought to situate his hearth. 
Its form was Gothic, and, as you suppose, 
With turrets, halls, fagades, and porticoes ; 
But to be brief — 'twas charming, neat, and nice. 
And cost the sire a hard-earned thousand thrice. 
A spacious yard before that mansion spread, 
And gravel walks unto its portals led; 
There ornamental trees in rows were placed — 
In fact, the whole evinced no lack of taste. 

III. 

But strange to say, though doubtless as it should. 

That old log hut all unmolested stood; 

Its chimney, built of sass'fras poles and clay, 

Spoke to his heart of many a happy day. 

In that rude hut by hasty hand prepared 

His swelling heart from time to time had shared 

More real bliss beneath that roof of boards 

Than mansion tall to drooping age affords. 

When Falro came he found it as before, 

The horseshoe nailed above the clapboard door. 

IV. 

Back to the dance. It was a lovely night : 

The round-faced moon spilt her refulgent light; 



FALRO SYLWIN. 121 

The spacious mansion was all brilliant made; 

The crowd had gathered, and the trio played — 

Yes, played our nation's spirit-stirring air. 

Where was our soldier then, and his thoughts, where? 

His mind had gone to view the gory field, 

Where columns fell, where deep-toned thunders pealed.' 

He heard the brave Wool's voice, saw his tall form 

Lead up the lines to face the deadly storm. 

Again those sharp words rang his heart all through ; 

His eye surveyed the dreadful field anew. 

That eye grew wild, his blood ran icy cold ; 

More ghastly sight man never should behold. 

A voice before them rang, more deep, more grave — 

'Twas that of Taylor, Taylor cool and brave. 

A shout uprose; they battled face to face. 

Line after line sank down in death's embrace. 

Till columns vast of wounded men and slain 

In frightful heaps deformed the battle plain. 



Though old earth rocked and trembled 'neath their feet, 
Taylor and Wool knew nothing of defeat ; 
Great clouds of smoke arose, but on they rushed — 
From many a comrade's breast the lifeblood gushed ; 
Deep groans were heard — those agonies of death — 
The cannons belched destruction ev'ry breath ! 
At last the foe grew faint, the work was done; 
One mighty yell — the bloody field was won. 



122 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

The music ceased, and Falro met instead 

Of Anna's lines the lines by Cupid led. 

His thoughts from war's disastrous fields came home 

To stay awhile, but soon again to roam. 

VI. 

Before the dancers had themselves arrayed 
The band struck up, and for a moment played 
That rich, old strain that takes our feelings back 
To youth's bright morn beside some grassy track 
Where some sweet lass with lithesome heart and gay 
Had sprinkled flowers along our shining way. 
That sweet, old air calls back the very word 
That from her lips our young affection stirred. 
We see again that soul-enchanting smile 
That met us when we lingered at the stile ; 
We see the lips where our warm kisses fell — 
Those ringlets soft that did their part so well; 
And there her glances played no idle part — 
Her bright tears gained a triumph o'er the heart. 
We stood bewildered thus, at last to own 
That maiden's face the fairest we had known. 

VII. 

Our hero's thoughts had gone with Leutra Vane 
One bright spring morn adown the grassy lane; 
Great dewdrops on the bending herbage hung, 
And in the trees blithe birds their matins sung. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 



123 



He clasped her hand ; he heard that thrilHng tone 
That from her heart spoke rapture to his own ; 
They paused, her tender eyes were turned on him; 
In their blue depths her hopes were seen to swim ; 
Her trembling hand unto his lip was pressed, 
And floods of joy ran riot in his breast. 
But Falro's mind forsook its dream of yore 
When busy feet began to pat the floor. 

VIIL 

On went the dance, for velvet, silk, and lace 

Had met to give young gallantry a chase : 

Sweet lips, bright eyes, soft cheeks, and glossy hair 

Had come to gain their Hfelong vict'ries there. 

O, who will say that Beauty's smiles are weak, 

And that no charm is planted on her cheek? 

Who says that Beauty's eyes are void of fire. 

Or that her form is nothing to admire? 

The dance went on, and Falro joined the ring — 

He seemed no more that solitary thing; 

For fair-haired Beauty had not come in vain: 

Her sway was felt, for that was her domain. 

In her bright presence music may impart 

A moment's solace to the saddest heart. 

IX. 

The tenant's niece, a buxom lass and fair. 
Had come her portion of the fun to share. 



124 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

And she, like others at no distant date, 
Had some sly hopes to find herself a mate. 
O, she was charming and of graceful mien ; 
But few more fair our soldier e'er had seen. 
About her neck the golden ringlets played ; 
She danced at ease in dappled silk arrayed. 
That night her beauty played its noblest part: 
Her lightest word had gone to Falro's heart; 
She smiled her sweetest smile that ev'ning tide 
While seated by our thoughtless soldier's side; 
And Falro's heart had said unto his brain : 
''O for her hand, loved I not Leutra Vane !" 

X. 

Ten days sped on like some swift streamlet's tide — 

Ten days, with Falro at Virendie's side — 

Virendie Hoin, the tenant's charming niece, 

In form so like the matchless maid of Greece. 

One ev'ning bright our smiling soldier strayed 

Far up the lane beside that winning maid. 

Her heart's whole warmth was placed on him the while, 

As could be seen in ev'ry loving smile; 

But Fate still claims the right our lots to choose, 

And that fair maid had some fond hopes to lose. 

Her uncle from the village homeward paced, 

And in his landlord's hand a letter placed. 

That letter bore by Beauty's fingers writ 

Our soldier's name and his address 'neath it. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 125 

One moment more he held that missive fast, 
And o'er its face his eager glances cast. 
The writing was familiar to his sight, 
For he knew where that hand had learned to write ; 
He caught his breath, unloosed Virendie's arm — 
She had no power then his heart to charm; 
And could he not some leisure time await? 
O, no ; for his desires had grown too great. 
With trembling hand the envelope he tore — 
Drew forth the sheet in half a minute more. 

XI. 

He scanned that page — as near the end he drew 

A peaceful smile o'er his smooth features flew; 

For there, unless his wav'ring vision erred, 

His Leutra's name and her address appeared. 

And though that page was brief, and there and here 

Bore slight impressions of the scalding tear, . 

Virendie saw, despite her wish to sneer. 

That it contained some truth he longed to hear. 

A sunbeam came his handsome features o'er; 

She ne'er had seen his face so bright before. 

They turned them round his pleasant home to seek ; 

The glow had vanished from Virendie's cheek. 

They reached the house ; our hero sought his room ; 

Virendie's morning hopes had set in gloom. 

She felt he had from her his heart withdrawn, 

And knew that it had o'er the waters gone; 



126 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

For she had heard indulgent friends explain 
How he had loved and lost his Leutra Vane. 

XII. 

He sought his room with hasty step, and there 
Sank back at once into his easy-chair. 
The sun so soon to fill the arms of night 
In at the casement poured his golden light. 
Those sunbeams fell upon the autumn flow'rs 
That had been plucked from out the garden bow'rs. 
Virendie's hand had placed those blossoms there 
Ere they strolled forth to take the ev'ning air; 
But all in vain, for Falro's struggling mind 
Had caught a glimpse of something left behind ; 
In vain those flow'rs their odors cast the while, 
In vain old Phoebus shed his parting smile. 
Our soldier's mind was fixed upon his lot : 
He saw them, but he felt their presence not; 
Bright visions strolled across his busy brain; 
His heart had gone in search of Leutra Vane. 

XIII. 

Muse! our theme's in need of greater haste: 
Our hero had but little time to waste; 

For long ere this his anxious eye had strained 
O'er ev'ry word that Leutra's note contained. 
Just how those lines into my clutches fell 

1 need not waste another page to tell; 



FALRO SYLWIN. 127 

They were in prose, but by the Muse's aid 

I matched them up, and these five couplets made : 

"O, sir ! why comes not thy soft footstep on ? 

The time for which we prayed has come and gone 

With two more years, and I have seen thee not. 

'T may be that Falro has my face forgot, 

And thinks no longer of the little maid 

That heard his vows beneath the beechen shade; 

Or it may be that death has stilled thy heart, 

And spared my own to bear a sadder part. 

O, fare thee well! 'tis useless now to write; 

For these rude lines may never meet thy sight." 

XIV. 

He sent no message o'er the waters wide 

To tell how soon he might be at her side; 

She knew not that her note had been received ; 

But thought him dead, and still in silence grieved. 

His anxious heart had started on its way: 

He packed his trunk to start the coming day ; 

And ere the morning sun began to smile 

He left his home for far-off Britain's isle. 

When long, long days and weary miles were passed. 

His footstep gained the English shore at last. 

XV. 

One lovely eve ere burning Sol had set 

He reached her home, and at the gate they met : 



128 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Our lovers met, but not in fond embrace — 

Those years had wrought some changes on his face ; 

The Hp that she had known so smooth before 

A silken suit of brown apparel wore ; 

To her he seemed some strange, wayfaring man. 

He raised his hat, she bowed, and he began: 

"Kind Miss, behold the sun is sinking low ; 

I'm weary now, would fain no farther go. 

A trav'ler from Columbia's smiling shore 

Here seeks to rest the coming Sabbath o'er." 

She knew him then despite their parted years, 

And grasped his hand, her eyelids wet with tears. 

And he at that small gate beside the road 

The sweetest kiss of all his life bestowed. 



XVL 

Think not that Falro's feet were turned away- 
She led him in and kindly bade him stay. 
'Twas there she lived with none to bless her life ; 
For on the hill beside his pious wife 
The miller had for three long seasons slept, 
And Leutra had as long the mansion kept. 
Her aged aunt had been implored to stay 
And help to wear the slow-winged years away. 
She led him in that mansion grand and old; 
Their trials all and all their loves were told. 



FALRO SYLWIN. 129 

XVII. 

A few days passed; down by the Avon's side 
The village church bell rang at ev'ning tide; 
There at the lighted altar side by side 
Our lovers stood, and she became his bride. 
Large was the crowd that eve assembled there; 
But none so happy as our bridal pair. 
Here ends our theme ; but we this truth append : 
'Tis faithful hearts that triumph in the end. 
9 



O-ROU'THIE IN'GLE. 



Prelude. 

I. 

Ye who o'er all my pages passed 

Have searched for am'rous numbers; 
Take this, for it may be my last 

To break Love's gentle slumbers. 
But let me make no promise rash, 

Lest I'm induced to break it, 
N'or ask you to accept my trash 

Unless you choose to take it. 
Expect no lay to suit the times, 

O'erfull of rare emotions ; 
ril choose my theme and mate my rhymes 

To suit my own strange notions. 
In this rude lay I may forget 

My heart to make yours canter, 
For we at times wild projects set 

To give the world a banter. 
In am'rous themes I plunged my mind, 

And found some comfort in them ; 
But I have sober lays behind, 

And shortly must begin them. 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 131 



II. 

It might be best to take a day 

And build my Fame a shelter, 
Lest all my gold should prove but clay 

When brought unto the smelter. 
'Tis hard to build on am'rous lays 

A world-wide reputation. 
He sings of war who strives to raise 

A tombstone o'er his nation ! 
The hoarse old drum I yet may beat, 

Sing paeans o'er the dying, 
And wave my nation's starry sheet 

When Freedom's foes are flying; 
But they whose loves I now relate 

Were earnest-hearted wooers, 
And not o'erwise, o'errich, o'ergreat. 

Nor were they evildoers. 
I know not what my Muse may bring, 

Or how the strains shall mingle, 
But think I have some truth to sing 

Of sweet Orouthie Ingle. 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 



Canto I. 

I. 

One Sabbath morn — I'll naught withhold, 

Since I've become so sober — 
The woodland wore her robes of gold, 

Those trappings of October. 
A sharp North wind came round the hill, 

The earHest of the season, 
And gently hinted that his will 

Was good to get up treason; 
And they who e'er had heard him sing 

Or prattle o'er his story 
Well knew that he was soon to bring 

A change in Nature's glory. 
The sun shone, but his smile was pale, 

The clouds were dark and hazy. 
The winds kept up their constant wail 

Above the fallen daisy; 
No songster woke his roundelay 

To greet the North's rude comer, 
Or warbled forth his funeral lay 

O'er faded blooms of summer. 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 



133 



II. 

No sound was heard upon the gale 

Except its own sad sighing, 
And far across the shiv'ring vale 

The golden leaves were flying; 
Those golden leaves on ev'ry side 

Were falling, drifting, lying; 
'Twas sad to see the woodland's pride 

Discarded thus and dying. 
O, some were tossed where fountains streamed, 

And with the tides were straying — 
Just like our shipwrecked hopes they seemed 

When left alone decaying. 
On this same eve young Oran Hyle 

Strayed forth his tears to mingle 
With hers who kept his heart the while — 

Our sweet Orouthie Ingle. 
But few brief hours had he to spare 

That fair girl's roof tree under; 
For days of illness, pain, and care 

Had torn his hopes asunder. 

III. 
Her eyes were blue — such tender blue 

As bears a close inspection; 
Her locks were of the raven's hue, 

And bordered by Perfection. 



134 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Her steps were light, her figure neat, 

No one had folHes fewer; 
- Her lips showed Beauty's work complete 

To her most jealous viewer. 
No fairer face has time unrolled 

To teach love as a duty, 
Since Greece from pure perfection's mold 

Cast forth her matchless beauty. 
Her voice was like the sweetest lute. 

More touching its appealings; 
Quite often, when her lips were mute, 

Her eyes told all her feelings. 
And he whose heart would fail to melt 

When hers was boiling over 
Had more of care than I had felt 

Ere I became a rover. 

IV. 

Across the wold one measured mile 

Brought him to that still dwelling, 
Where sweet Orouthie's welcome smile 

Had set his bosom swelling. 
There oft Orouthie's laugh had made 

His light heart beat the lighter; 
Though bright his eye, hers furnished aid, 

And made his seem the brighter. 



ORO UTHIE INGLE. 135 

He reached the door, Orouthie's mirth 

His welcome presence greeted; 
She led him to her cozy hearth, 

And there bade him be seated. 
That day had been appointed long 

To set their nuptial meeting, 
And she, sweet soul, had many a song 

To warble as his greeting; 
She knew not how his bosom bled, 

Or how that bosom labored » 

To keep her tender tears unshed 

While Hope with Anguish neighbored. 

V- i 

His face was fair, but few more fair 

Do honor to our nation; 
Enough of night lay in his hair 

To wake up admiration; 
His heart was kind, for love, pure love, 

Was its prevailing feature ; 
He never felt himself above 

A noble-minded creature. 
O, he was tall, erect, and neat — 

A stately-looking fellow! 
The harshest word he spoke was sweet. 

His accents were so mellow. 



136 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

A nut-brown mustache held his lip 

In undisturbed possession; 
His words like raindrops seemed to drip, 

As if 'twere his profession; 
A bright eye, a smoother brow 

We seldom e'er discover; 
But we need prate no longer now 

Of sweet Orouthie's lover. 

VI. 

But hold, my Muse ! three long years back 

Their love had its beginning; 
And I should trace that flow'ry track — 

Naught else may prove so winning. 
I love to stand when twilight's shroud 

O'er earth's still bosom hovers, 
And hear breathed forth, not overloud, 

The vows of parting lovers ; 
The sad farewell, the fond embrace. 

And parting kiss remind me 
Of many a sweetheart's pretty face 

That time has put behind me; 
I love to track their tardy feet 

O'er widespread fields of clover. 
And hear their falt'ring tongues repeat 

The tale so oft told over. 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 137 

I love to watch an earnest pair 

When Hfe's bright lamp is burning; 

No smile to lose, no kiss to spare, 
Each fond embrace returning. 

VII. 

O, she was fair when first they met ! 

One of those charming misses, 
Whose rosy lips had ne'er been wet 

Save by maternal kisses; 
And she was young, as well as fair, 

A bloom of sixteen summers ; 
Her cheerful heart in grief and care 

Had not found early comers. 
We dare to make her secret known. 

And save much idle guessing; 
No heart was dearer than her own — 

Her liie was all a blessing. 
Her playful feet had never strayed 

By Passion's flowing river, 
And she had ne'er her homage paid 

To Cupid's bow and quiver. 
Her mother was no thoughtless dame — 

She knew what Nature taught her, 
And struggled to impart the same 

Unto her darling daughter. 



138 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

VIII. 

Her father had in his cold grave 

For thirteen seasons slumbered; 
And doubtless his long absence gave 

Her mother woes unnumbered. 
Two simple stones stood o'er his clay 

By tender hands erected: 
They told where that fond parent lay, 

And his cold dust protected. 
That slab told nothing of his worth — 

A custom nobly started. 
It bore his name, his date of birth, 

And told when he departed. 
In childhood's day by that lone spot 

The lass and dame had waited ; 
The first knew nothing of his lot, 

Had ne'er heard it related ; 
And scarce knew why her mother there 

Was such long vigils keeping; 
Though once she heard her muttered prayer. 

She never saw her weeping. 

IX. 

They who bemoan a comrade's death 
In loud, heart-piercing wailings 

Are they who waste much time and breath 
To show the world their failings; 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 139 

And should they all your words reject, 

And more appear to languish, 
Be patient, friends, if you expect 

These fools to die of anguish. 
O save your words; they'll give relief 

On some required occasion; 
For they who make a mock of grief 

Seeek not for consolation ! 
And such as these are filled with grief 

That seems not hard to smother: 
They lose one heart and seek relief 

By choosing of another. 
Yes, these are they who soon forget 

That they've a consort sleeping — 
As shallow streams are those that fret 

And do the wildest leaping. 



But he who sits where others smile, 

Nor thinks of his beholders^ 
Is he whose heart weeps all the while 

Where some fond bosom molders. 
Yes, all his heart 'neath some low mound 

With one cold breast is sleeping; 
And they the gay who smile around 

Ne'er dream that he is weeping. 



140 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

He smiles at times, the burning tear 

Is lurking just behind it; 
He seems in search of pleasure here, 

But ever fails to find it; 
He seems delighted at your mirth, 

But yet his fancy wanders, 
And far away by some still hearth 

With one fair creature ponders. 
Should some smooth stream before you spread, 

Pause ere you come too nigh it; 
For rugged rocks are in its bed — 

Its depth but keeps it quiet. 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 141 



Canto II. 

I. 

Poetic Genius, plantlike, shares 

No part in ev'ry bower; 
It seldom blooms, more seldom bears 

A seed-producing flower; 
And though it is a thing sublime, 

The poorest soil may rear one. 
And it has grown in ev'ry clime, 

Excepting my own dear one; 
Yet she has had some bards of sense. 

Some whom we love and honor; 
But one will come some century's hence, 

And spill his gems upon her. 
Each brief decade brings forth its bard 

To keep our hearts contented, 
And he is worthy of regard 

Who has one truth presented. 
A rhymer comes, his soul is fired. 

He sweats and toils to show it; 
But ten long centuries are required 

To bring a nation's poet. 



142 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

II. 

But where is she, that bonny flower 

Whose blush erewhile we courted? 
Shall she be left in that still bower, 

Where first our numbers sported? 
No ; by my soul my vagrant Muse 

Regains her self-possession, 
And for my own forgiveness sues — 

Seeks pardon for digression. 
Since she has had her sportive flight 

Her wing is doubtless stronger, 
And ril permit no cause so slight 

To keep you waiting longer. 
I yet shall tell the very spot 

Where Oran came to woo her; 
I knew, nor have I yet forgot. 

Much that he said unto her; 
And I shall tell^ should naught forbid. 

All that e'er passed between them. 
'Tis hard to keep our treasures hid 

Where other eyes have seen them. 

III. 
My Muse would break her firmest vow 

To gain some recreation, 
But bows in meek submission now 

To my own inclination; 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 143 

And thus equipped, we seize the thread 

That snapped and seemed so brittle; 
On it depends what shall be said, 

Should that be much or little. 
My am'rous Lay, like some bright spring 

That starts to find the ocean, 
Meets swamps and sloughs and many a thing 

That serves to check its motion. 
We said that she was young and fair — 

We've told you nothing truer. 
But failed to tell you when or where 

She chanced to meet her wooer. 
She and the dame one autumn day 

Were at their household labor 
When they saw stalking up the way 

Their gen'rous-hearted neighbor. 

IV. . 

He came, he made his business known — 

It was their home he wanted; 
It suited him, it joined his own, 

Nor was he to be daunted. 
Her mother sold that spot of earth. 

Though it had been her mother's : 
Sold it for all that it was worth, 

And bought land by her brother's. 



144 



WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

A few days passed, and they had moved 

Unto their new location. 
It pleased them much; in fact, it proved 

A pleasant situation. 
That home some marks of neatness bore; 

A skillful hand designed it; 
-The cultured fields lay spread before, 

The orchards rose behind it. 
In changing homes, we change our friends 

We imitate the swallow. 
And oft our flight so far extends 

That friendships dare not follow. 

V. 

True friendship is a tender tie 

That binds two hearts at farthest : 
A plant that grows 'neath ev'ry sky, 

But seldom yields a harvest. 
Our friendships are serene and bright 

When by their objects tended, 
But shed their leaves in mis'ry's night 

To show their duties ended; 
They sometimes bear the fruit of strife — 

We leave them, plant another ; 
No man would jeopardize his life 

Now, even for his brother. 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 145 

Our friendships now would not go through 

One-half such trying stages 
As friendships did when hearts were true 

Back in barbaric ages. 
O, why are all our friendships made 

Of such decaying matter, 
Or rather why are hearts inlaid 

With so much paste and batter ? 

VI. 
A week passed on ; one charming day 

When Nature looked most sober 
Our maiden hied her steps where lay 

The red leaves of October. 
The hazel shrubs stood by the way, 

With autumn's treasures laden. 
And served a moment to delay 

The footsteps of our maiden. 
I knew that woodland's aged trees, 

Ere sweet Orouthie strayed there ; 
Those hazel bushes in the breeze 

Were waving when I played there ; 
With tender hand she spread the burrs 

Their kernels to discover, 
And little thought that heart of hers 

Was soon to meet its lover. 
10 



146 VVOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

The wood was still as Lethe's lake — 
No sound resounded through it, 

When lo ! a voice amid the brake 
Sang this strange lay unto it: 

VII. 
I. 

'In trenches lay long lines of gray, 

The morn's pale watchers under, 
And waiting for the break of day 

To bring sulphuric thunder; 
Each soldier knew the host in blue, 

Led on by conquerors hoary. 
Had sworn to make their numbers few. 

And spoil a nation's glory. 

2. 

In heated blood to nip the bud 

Secession seemed their notion, 
Forgetful that the same hot flood 

Kept Rebel hearts in motion. 
Those Rebels from where grew the palm. 

Elsewhere so stained and gory, 
So loud in war, in peace so calm, 

Could spoil a nation's glory. 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 147 

3- 

Ere daylight came great sheets of flame 

The cannons were emitting: 
Those cruel guns had fought for fame. 

And knew no time for quitting." 

VIII. 
The author of that broken lay 

Has had his genius doubted ; 
He failed to tell who won that day, 

Or even who were routed — 
Yes, failed to tell; and if he knew, 

We fain would have him state it; 
It might have been his minstrel, v/lio 

Neglected to relate it. 
In fact, his last words had not rung 

By echo's tongue repeated, 
When from the brake, where first he sung, 

A nimble youth retreated. 
Orouthie saw him when he stepped 

From out the woodland bowers; 
She thought no lighter foot e'er swept 

Its way o'er withered flowers. 
He gazed a moment on the wood, 

And heard the sheep bells jingle; 
He turned aside, before him stood 

Fair-faced Orouthie Ingle. 



148 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

IX. 

That sprightly youth was Oran Hyle, 

Of whom we late made mention ; 
His heart was heaving, and his smile 

Was worthy of attention. 
There face to face he viewed the maid, 

So scanty seemed the distance, 
His tongue his wishes disobeyed — 

Refused to yield assistance. 
He bowed his head, but failed to speak, 

Though hard he strove to mutter ; 
The hot blood rushed into his cheek ; 

He felt his bosom flutter; 
He forward drew to meet her view, 

A model he of neatness, 
His tongue then broke the silence through, 

Though somewhat lost to sweetness : 
'T sought to make these woodlands ring, 

I knew not thou wert near me ; 
In truth, I ne'er attempt to sing 

When those who can may hear me. 

X. 

stay thy footsteps, gentle maid ! 
I'm but a thoughtless ranger; 

1 bring not harm, accept my aid; 
I never knew a stranger. 



O ROUT HIE INGLE. 149 

And pensive Beauty in my care 

Is shielded and protected — 
A tribute due her ev'ry where, 

Though frequently neglected. 
If thou art lost, accept a guide 

That honors woman sainted; 
With all these woodlands deep and wide 

I feel myself acquainted; 
And many a time, in many a year 

Since those bright days of childhood, 
Alone and much delighted here 

I've rambled through the wildwood." 
"I am not lost," the maid replied ; 

Her heart was heaving, swelling; 
'T know my path ; we now reside 

In the Oconner dwelling." 



Canto III. 

I. 

He bowed, and forthwith walked away. 

Throiig-h tears unshed she viewed him ; 
No fairer face met him that day, 

No brighter eyes pursued him. 
Behind the brush he soon had sped — 

She gazed in that direction; 
When he was gone it may be said 

She needed his protection. 
A woman in the woods alone 

When what she loves has vanished 
Is like a queen torn from her throne 

And all her subjects banished. 
What he had said made her believe 

That he resided near them ; 
She sang sweet songs at morn and eve 

In hope that he might hear them. 
She knew that all her heart would melt 

Should she again behold him; 
She knew that he knew where she dwelt, 

For luckilv she'd told him. 



OROVTHIE INGLE. 151 

11. 

Away, away, six long, long weeks 

Had checked her soul's expansion, 
When lo ! one came whose rosy cheeks 

Lit up Oconner mansion. 
And who was he but Oran Hyle, 

And what could be his mission ? 
Had he been led by Fancy's wile, 

Or cheated by ambition? 
To culture Truth is our design; 
' We make this plain suggestion : 
Whoe'er had knelt at Beauty's shrine 

Could answer such a question. 
Yes, he whoe'er had visits made 

To Beauty's tender flower 
Could well have told why Oran strayed 
. That ev'ning from his bower. 
Orouthie could his motive trace; 

In fact, she saw well through it. 
They who possess a handsome face 

Are always knowing to it. 

III. 

But let's not such huge piles erect. 

Our lovers are together; 
Their moon has changed, and we expect 

Some days of settled weather. 



152 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

They smiled away that afternoon 

In far-off Eden's fashion, 
And Friendship's plant for them had soon 

Put on the bud of Passion; 
And from that bud came forth the bloom — 

Love was that pretty flower; 
And they inhaled its sweet perfume 

In ev'ry trysting bower : 
Each gentle breeze that whispered by 

Brought fragrance on its pinions; 
They dwelt 'neath Fancy's shining sky 

In Pleasure's bright dominions. 
But why pursue their footsteps through 

The leafy groves that knew them? 
Their hearts to love were both too true 

For falsehoods to undo them. 

IV. 
There they on many a rosy eve 

Beside the gate had waited; 
'Twas his to give, hers to receive 

The kiss at times belated. 
On many a time they lingered there, 

Their place of meeting, parting ; 
And Burns beside his fav'rite Ayr 

Scarce took more time in starting; 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 153 

And Mary's heart could not have been 

More tender, more devoted; 
Or Burns, with all his fire within, 

More on that Mary doted. 
Orouthie's eyes drank love from his — 

Her heart was filled with rapture. 
A woman's heart is, truly is, 

A noble thing to capture! 
There's naught on earth more bliss insures 

Than gen'rous-hearted woman; 
And he who all her love secures 

Should be no less than human. 

V. 

Orouthie and her lover spent 

Their leisure hours together; 
Where'er she went her wooer went. 

In bright or stormy weather. 
Two years rolled up and rolled away, 

And thus our lovers spent them: 
They met on ev'ry Sabbath day — 

No less would e'er content them. 
In those bright seasons Oran grew 

More earnest, more devoted ; 
He loved the lass, she loved him too ; 

Their acts this truth denoted. 



154 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

One bright forenoon young Oran sought 

Orouthie's peaceful dwelling, 
When near the gate his quick ear caught 

The sound of music swelling; 
He stayed his step, each passing breeze 

On its brisk pinions bore him 
From her sweet lips such notes as these, 

And cast their raptures o'er him : 

VI. 
*'It came at last — their parting day — 

And fair-haired William started; 
He turned his footsteps to the bay, 

And left his love sad-hearted. 
The last farewell, the last embrace, 

And last sweet kiss were taken; 
She watched him from their trysting place — 

Her loving heart was shaken; 
And still she gazed ; that heart, though weak. 

Was eager for his welfare; 
The hot tears still were on his cheek 

That from her eyelids fell there. 
He went to spend from Delia's side 

Three years across the ocean, 
Then come prepared to choose his bride 

And culture his devotion ; 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 155 

She lingered, gazing from the gate, 
The place where they had parted; 

Those long, long years how could she wait 
And not be broken-hearted ? 

VII. 
'Twas Indigence, that monster grim. 

That tyrant of the nation. 
That led his step and prompted him 

To change his occupation ; 
It urged him forth from Delia's side 

To leave her fond heart weeping. 
And pointed o'er the waters wide 

To lands where gold lay sleeping. 
His soul was sad, his bosom bled 

O'er his grave resolution; 
But that seemed better than to wed 

And live in destitution. 
From this same thought his bosom caught 

More fervor, more ambition — 
'Twas hard to leave her, but he sought 

To better his condition; 
He knew that Delia's heart would keep 

Its grief till she should eye him ; 
But better o'er his absence weep 

Than weep in hunger by him. 



156 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

VIII. 
She watched him till he neared the bay — 

No longer could she view him; 
The lips that then had much to say 

Could then say naught unto him; 
Much rather then would she have wed 

The youth at one and twenty, 
And through this world have begged her bread 

Than lived at home in plenty; 
That day was dark, no darker day 

E'er cast its shadows o'er her; 
Her flowers of life had passed away, 

And left the thorns before her. 
Ah, hapless maid! the treach'rous wave 

Oft takes into its keeping 
The young, the fair, the good, the brave 

To leave fond bosoms weeping. 
Three years passed on — no William came ; 

Now Delia's soul is sighing: 
Sad thought, but true, his youthful frame 

In ocean's bed is lying." 

IX. 

She ceased ; he hied his foot till soon 
Her clean-swept threshold bore it; 

She had not looked for him ere noon — 
He seldom came before it. 



O ROUT HIE INGLE. 157 

Sad was her song — from his bright eyes 

He scarce could keep the tear drops ; 
But smiled and spoke of his surprise 

To find her wearing eardrops. 
Quoth she : "I see my great mistake, 

And suffer while I view it; 
I'd worn them two years for your sake, 

And fancied that you knew it. 
What fools are we, how prone to waste 

Our comfort, time, and duty ! 
Our aims are more than half misplaced 

When we would dress for beauty; 
We tangle ribbons in our hair, 

Enrobe ourselves in laces. 
And, striving to appear more fair, 

Play havoc with our graces." 

X. 

Quoth he : "My dear, I had not thought 

Of Beauty ornamented; 
It was thy heart's whole warmth I sought — 

With this I felt contented ; 
But O ! think not that I oppose 

Aught that may add to neatness; 
The sunbeam cast upon the rose 

Shows more of its completeness ; 



158 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Ah! Beauty's simple self is fair, 

But ornaments befit her; 
The dewdrop bright in Phoebus' glare 

Is fairly made to glitter; 
At first we seldom e'er behold 

The rose leaf's fringes tender, 
Or e'en the dewdrop's tint of gold — 

They dazzle us with splendor. 
O, pardon me should I o'erlook 

Thy ornaments and laces ! 
I sought to read thy heart's great book. 

And there find all thy graces." 



Canto IV. 

I. 

His Sabbath morns young Oran Hyle 

Spent with poetic sages; 
His soul was charmed, a long, long while 

He lingered o'er the pages, 
Where Byron, proud but sad at heart. 

Had poured each tender feeling, 
And drove at times the poison dart 

Too deep for early healing; 
The lines that told of Love's adieu 

And Love's first kiss were near ones, 
Or spoke of Mary's ringlets' hue 

Were touching, sad, and dear ones; 
And Oran's heart was made to pine. 

His tender soul was smitten, 
For Truth appeared in ev'ry line 

To sleeping Thyrza written; 
And he had still one tender tear 

For Mary, fair but fickle, 
On ev'ry page he seemed to hear 

The bards' warm tear drops trickle. 



l6o WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY, 

II. 

And he had wept, 'mid feehngs wild, 

As he perchance remembers — 
Ay ! wept with Scotia's famous child 

O'er Highland Mary's embers; 
At her high tomb on his bright page 

Our youth was fond of kneeling. 
For Burns — the comet of that age — 

Had filled his soul with feeling. 
The youth had heard the winding Ayr 

Through Burns's numbers streaming. 
And Mary's comely face was there — 

Her long, bright tresses gleaming; 
Her parting kiss had filled his ear 

Through those immortal numbers; 
And he had wasted many a tear 

O'er her untimely slumbers. 
He many a wild bird's song had heard 

In those deep lays resounded; 
For many a merry little bird 

Had Burns's bosom wounded. 

III. 
Fresh from such pages Oran came 

To woo affection tender; 
His boyish hopes were all aflame — 

His eyes betrayed their splendor. 



OROUTHIE INGLE. i6l 

O, he had taught his heart to swim 

Love's sea, where ev'ry bliss is! 
And Beauty's lip had charms for him 

Beside its melting kisses ! 
Yes, such was he who came to kneel 

At Woman's sacred altar; 
His heart in love with Beauty's weal 

Had never learned to fault her. 
Still Oran came, and on, and on 

The happy years were treading; 
All o'er the neighborhood had gone 

A whisper of their wedding. 
The same old words, the same old tune, 

With their accustomed humor — 
Though sung at times a year too soon, 

There's something in a rumor. 



IV. 

Three years in blank eternity 

Had gone themselves to mingle 
Since Oran 'neath the hazel tree 

First met Orouthie Ingle. 
Those years flew on in peace to them, 

For heart in heart was sharing — 
Affection is a matchless gem. 

And brightens with the wearing. 



l62 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY, 

For three long months had Oran felt 
Some dire disease approaching; 

And skillful blows by Physic dealt 
Had left it still encroaching. 

And Oran's hopes began to fade — 
His crimson cheek had faded. 

The tyrant grim in mail arrayed 
Had Health's bright realm invaded; 

He hoped it long, nor yet it came: 
The day for Health's renewal; 

His strength had gone to feed the flame- 
Still it demanded fuel. 

V. 

We now have reached the very place 

At which our numbers started, 
To find from Oran's youthful face 

The bloom of health departed; 
And sadder scenes must fill our lay, 

For Truth demands attention; 
With Falsehood's idle group to stray 

Has ne'er been my intention; 
In its dark den there let it dwell, 

Ne'er in my verse to mingle ; 
And I shall sing what cares befell 

Bright-eyed Orouthie Ingle. 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 163 

On this same evening, side by side, 

The flying moments found them; 
He sought permission to divide 

The tender ties that bound them: 
He urged that health from him had flown, 

And that the grave was nigh him; 
He said he had so haggard grown 

She felt unpleasant by him. 

VI. 

He spoke of ev'ry happy hour 

That he had passed by with her, 
When wild birds' lays filled ev'ry bower 

And bees were humming thither ; 
He spoke of ev'ry parting kiss, 

And soon began to falter. 
Quoth she: "But they have led to this, 

And not the bridal altar. 
I had high hopes, but now they fade; 

Bright dreams, but they are vanished; 
And I'm another thoughtless maid 

From Love's dominion banished. 
I saw thy cheek when last we met 

Was pale and growing paler; 
But yet I love thee, love thee yet. 

Nor grows my passion frailer. 



l64 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Long have I hoped that Health would soon 
Regain her lost possessions, 

And hoped that this sad afternoon 
Would end Love's secret sessions. 

VII. 
Before the altar at thy side, 

When Twilight's lamp is burning, 
Soon to become thy happy bride 

My poor, proud heart's still yearning. 
Long have I waited for that day 

To cast its sunlight o'er us — 
Yes, waited; but to my dismay 

Dark shades are now before us. 
It seems that all our joys are passed — 

Ay, passed and gone forever; 
But I shall love thee to the last, 

Though we are forced to sever. 
I love thee; but no love can save 

Or change the dire decision 
When Death consigns unto the grave 

What fills our brightest vision. 
But thou may'st sleep in that cold grave 

Assured that I love thee, 
And that no worthless weed shall wave 

Its idle leaves above thee." 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 165 

VIIL 
Then silence came; a long, long while 

Her tears flowed unencumbered; 
She wept as if by some low pile 

Where his loved bosom slumbered. 
He waited long, the tear drops came, 

And o'er his pale cheek started. 
Quoth he: "Sweet girl, we feel the same — 

I'm like thee, broken-hearted. 
'Tis useless now, 'tis all in vain 

To hope my restoration; 
To sport again o'er Health's domain 

Is past my expectation. 
But when I sleep I'd have thee not 

Waste one fond tear drop o'er me. 
Nor decorate the solemn spot. 

Though I so much adore thee." 
He rose and clasped Orouthie's hand — 

The parting word was spoken; 
His lips to hers were measured, and 

Thus those fond ties were broken. 

IX. 

They parted ; Oran homeward sped ; 

His heart was fainting, sinking. 
That night upon his thorny bed 

Our sad-souled youth lay thinking; 



i66 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

And thus he lay while midnight's hour 

In quietude stole o'er him — 
Lay thinking of that hazel bower, 

With her fair face before him — 
She, who so long his heart had kept 

Fast bound in silken fetters, 
And oft in solitude had wept 

O'er one small box of letters: 
Those billets came from Oran's hand 

When hope and health were flying; 
They spoke of bygone blisses, and 

The sting and dread of dying ; 
And eke of slumbering in the tomb, 

Forgotten and neglected, 
Till Heaven's call shall break its gloom — 

Things promised are expected. 

X. 

Away, away with thoughts like this ! 

They spoil my sluggish numbers. 
Orouthie met some scenes of bliss 

That sad night in her slumbers: 
She dreamed that ten long years had flown 

Since they were forced to sever — 
Dreamed that his form had vig'rous grown. 

And was as fair as ever; 



OROUTHIE INGLE. i6y 

His face that same sweet welcome wore 

With which at first he met her; 
A longer mustache than of yore 

Seemed to become him better ; 
He graver seemed, more slow to speak — 

She gazed on him enchanted, 
And saw the dimple on his cheek 

Where her last kiss was planted. 
But hold, my Muse, waste not thy fire 

On things so idle seeming! 
To Truth I dedicate my lyre. 

Though I am fond of dreaming. 



Canto V. 

I. 

Two years sped on and on before 

Our hero's health was granted; 
Orouthie wept his absence o'er, 

For still she felt enchanted. 
Then one fair youth of spotless fame 

Began to call upon her, 
Made known his cause and based his claim 

On virtue, love, and honor. 
Six months had gone before she paid 

His suit her marked attention; 
Then Oran's charms began to fade — 

Of him no one made mention. 
And he was gone, she knew not where — 

His careless footstep wandered; 
His name at times was in her prayer — 

She o'er his absence pondered. 
At last her hand and presence she 

Bestowed on him who sought them : 
His kindness and his constancy 

At no mean price had bought them. 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 169 

II. 

One autumn eve at twilight dim 

These lovers were united; 
At times Orouthie thought of him 

To whom her troth was plighted. 
But Oran wandered on and on — 

She knew not where or whither; 
She thought her love for him had gone 

Ne'ermore to wrangle with her. 
Alas! could she the length have known 

Of young Affection's halter, 
A sacrifice she had not thrown 

Her heart on Wedlock's altar. 
She thought no more that Oran's face 

On earth's broad breast would meet her; 
She knew not that in his embrace 

He yet had hoped to greet her. 
But O ! some sad mistakes are made 

In matrimonial matters; 
And many a cheerful heart has paid 

Its wealth to him who flatters. 

III. 
Three years went by; they lived in peace 

With her devoted mother ; 
And fair Orouthie strove to cease 

Her longings for another. 



170 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

In blank Oblivion's shoreless sea 

She sought to lose her dear one ; 
But she at times his face could see 

Contrasted with the near one. 
And Mem'ry's bark at times would sail 

All freighted with his farewell; 
His parting sigh came on the gale 

As oft as she could bear well; 
She strove to drive from out her heart 

The face that haunted ever; 
But Cupid's bow had sent the dart, 

And fastened it forever; 
And she all that fond heart arraigned 

To own its labor finished; 
But all in vain — the spark remained 

Untarnished, undiminished. 

IV. 

One crimson eve adown the lane 

Orouthie strolled unthinking 
As downward to the peaceful main 

The round red sun was sinking; 
The maple shades were spreading o'er 

Where slept the autumn flowers, 
The noisy mockbird piped no more 

From out the orchard bowers ; 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 171 

The busy crow far round the hill 

Kept calling to her kindred, 
While onward sped the laughing rill 

By mossy pebbles hindered. 
O'er those smooth pebbles in its bed 

That silver stream had sported, 
As there she sat ere hope had fled, 

While youthful Oran courted. 
That eve beside the streamlet she 

Stood gazing on the wildwood ; 
A footfall came, she turned, 'twas he — 

The wooer of her childhood. 

V. 

He nearer drew, he bowed his head. 

And thinking her still single, 
"May Heaven bless," a soft voice said, 

''My sweet Orouthie Ingle !" 
She still was fair — her features still 

The same enchantment carried; 
Her eyes with tears began to fill — 

He knew not she was married. 
She gave her hand ; but Oran spied 

She strove her love to smother. 
He bent to kiss her, but she sighed : 

"I'm wedded to another !" 



172 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

He held her hand, his grasp grew weak; 

She felt his pulses quiver ; 
The hot tears o'er his manly cheek 

Were dashing like a river: 
He held that hand a little while — 

More dear to him than any; 
Quoth he: "I've wandered many a mile; 

I've yet to wander many. 



VI. 

I hoped to find thee single yet, 

Or I had wandered ever; 
Thy lovely face I had not met 

From it again to sever. 
Vain was my aim, and I must go — 

I would not cause thee sorrow — 
In distant climes to waste my woe : 

I'll start again to-morrow. 
I could not live in sight of thee, 

And some one else possess thee; 
Then let me from thy presence flee. 

And leave his love to bless thee. 
'Tis not my wish to do thee wrong, 

'Tis not my wish to grieve thee ; 
I'll seek again the bustling throng — 

I love, but I must leave thee. 



OROUTHIE INGLE. 173 

While thou in other arms shalt rest, 

My lonely lot unheeding, 
I'll urge my footsteps on unblessed — 

This wounded heart still bleeding." 

VII. 

He turned to go; Orouthie's sigh 

Caused him again to face her. 
She wiped the tear drop from his eye; 

He sought not to embrace her. 
She stood all mute and motionless, 

Her big, bright tears were streaming; 
He brushed not back the wanton tress 

That on her brow lay gleaming; 
He kissed no sad tear from her cheek 

To soothe her troubled features. 
She stood before him mild and meek — 

The fairest of all creatures. 
He turned to go, no pause was made 

Nor word sought he to utter. 
Orouthie gazed on him dismayed — 

She felt her bosom flutter. 
Yes, he had come and he had gone, 

He whom she thought was sleeping — 
A gleam of joy that gleam withdrawn 

To leave her sad and weeping. 



174 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

VIII. 
Orouthie gazed till he behind 

The woodland had departed; 
Then with sad heart and troubled mind 

Back to her dwelling started; 
And step by step to him she drew, 

Though all her heart resisted — 
He whom she loved until she knew 

That Oran still existed. 
Orouthie had time and again 

O'er her misfortune pondered; 
But ne'er with heart so sad as then 

From that bright streamlet wandered. 
How oft by one unthoughtful deed 

We cause some one's distraction, 
And make our own fond bosoms bleed 

By one imprudent action ! 
In Wedlock's paths some go astray, 

And teach their hearts to worry, 
Lose all the peace they sought to stay 

By wedding in a hurry. 

IX. 

The years passed on ; in secret she 

Her lonely lot lamented. 
A loving wife she strove to be; 

She strove to be contented, 



O ROUT HIE INGLE. 175 

Those years swept on and left her heart 

Still aching, bleeding, pining; 
But there had Oran lost no part^ 

Love's firelight still was shining. 
But Oran's footsteps came at last 

To his paternal dwelling: 
He came, but not as in the past 

With heart and hopes high swelling; 
He wore no more that cheerful look ; 

His words were random spoken; 
His face its former light forsook, 

And showed his spirits broken. 
But why delay? My thoughtless song 

Is soon to be completed; 
For I've detained Orouthie long 

To tell of hopes defeated. 

X. 

Yes, Oran came, and came to stay; 

And if you dare to doubt it, 
You'll please call round some leisure day — 

I'll tell you all about it. 
A few miles ofil: Orouthie lives 

In peace and plenty only ; 
It to her heart some comfort gives 

To think him not so lonely. 



176 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

I knew them well; I saw them meet 

Back in the distance yonder 
Of the dim past, ere Oran's feet 

From her began to wander ; 
I've seen them meet in circles gay 

Where idle chance had thrown him: 
He failed to speak, she turned away 

As if she ne'er had known him. 
I've seen them meet when none were near- 

I wish I had not seen them — 
He clasped her hand, she shed a tear : 

Love still exists between them. 



ZAR-REE' O-DILL'. 



Prelude. 

I thought when sad Orouthie closed 

To quit these wanton themes; 
But my vain Muse had scarce reposed 

Ere this rose in her dreams. 
I feel not yet content to let 

These follies leave my mind; 
It seems that I've a little yet 

Of something left behind. 
Through all the wreck I'll search about ; 

And should one gem be there, 
Whate'er the cost, I'll bring it out — 

I'm fond of jewels rare. 
Valatah with her thousand faults, 

And Falro Sylwin more, 
And sad Orouthie's vain assaults 

At sober Wisdom's door, 
Though poorly dressed and vile enough 

To strike the reader dumb. 
May be o'erfull of pleasant stuff 

To what is yet to come. 

12 



ZARREE ODILL. 



Canto I. 

I. 

From sunlit climes a maiden gay 

Was once constrained to roam: 
In distant lands one darksome day 

She found a Sister's home. 
From shores where she was wont to dwell 

Stern Fate had led her feet 
To regions where on hill and dell 

The storms of winter beat; 
And there at eighteen years of age 

She pledged her heart away 
To one who built the bird a cage 

Before their bridal day. 
He reared his cage ; 'twas nice and neat ; 

It pleased the shy maid's sight — 
Soft carpets sank beneath her feet, 

The walls were chalky white; 
There beds and chairs and mirrors tall 

Were brought and placed with care; 
And what seemed noblest of them all, 

A grand piano there. 



ZARREE ODILL. 179 

II. 

The share of Time had marked his brow, 

Bedeck it as he might; 
And this detained the maiden's vow 

For many a day and night. 
She loved him, though full twenty years 

Between their births had passed; 
And meddling tongues their taunts and jeers 

Behind his back had cast. 
We know some sick'ning tales in sooth 

Of wealth-bought love are told; 
But he repaid his loss of youth 

With kindness, love, and gold — 
Sad doings; but admit we must 

Such things have served in turn; 
Yet we prefer some shining dust — 

It helps the flame to burn; 
'Twill aid its wise possessor more 

When comes that rainy day 
Than all the friends that throng his door 

To spend the month of May. 

III. 

But to our theme. Despite his years, 

His face was somewhat fair; 
And some who then met him with sneers 

Had hoped his heart to share. 



i8o WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

His form was vig'rous and robust — 

A blessing everywhere — 
He knew that Time its silvery dust 

Had sprinkled in his hair; 
His actions were majestic quite, 

His voice was soft and sweet, 
His manners won the heart at sight, 

He ■ wore apparel neat. 
And he through Peril's path had gone, 

And heard the battle cry — 
Yea, heard stern voices calling on 

Line after line to die : 
When North and South their errors made 

Such bloody things to do. 
He to the latter lent his aid. 

And fought the service through. 



IV. ' 

The cage was made, the bird was brought 

Those pleasant things to share; 
And I shall paint her as I caught 

Her tender glances there. 
Her form was graceful, plump, and neat, 

But slightly over size; 
Her features fair, we might say sweet, 

And bright blue were her eyes; 



ZARREE ODILL. i8l 

Across her snowy forehead fell 

Soft locks of raven hair; 
Those ringlets had been kept so well 

That few e'er grew so fair. 
The birds that warbled from the tree 

No sweeter voices had — 
She sang with them, for she could see 

No reason to be sad. 
As yet dull Care no cloud had cast 

Across her morning skies: 
In happiness her days were passed — 

Love's light was in her eyes. 



V. 

A year or two had wound along; 

Then dire Disease came on. 
Soon he, the tender and the strong. 

To his cold grave had gone. 
Then she, who had in Eden's bower 

A few bright moments passed. 
Saw Fate's dark clouds begin to lower, 

And heard the rising blast. 
O, that was such a darksome day ! 

No sunlight broke the gloom, 
And not one soul-inspiring ray 

Could pierce the silent tomb, 



l82 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Where her fond heart with his remained, 

And 'neath the herbage slept; 
At eve that spot her foot detained — 

She lingered there and wept. 
Then as sad-souled Zarree Odill 

Was left to live alone, 
She leased her home upon the hill. 

And sought her native zone. 



VI. 

A year or two there had she dwelt 

Upon that sunny shore, 
And had at times vague longings felt 

To see her home once more; 
So in the long, bright days of June 

She at her home appeared, 
And doubtless had forgot too soon 

Who had that dwelling reared. 
Hard is his task who would reverse 

One custom of the town — 
A widowed heart is hard to nurse 

And hold its longings down. 
The heart, the widowed heart requires 

Some kind, indulgent breast 
With which to share its sacred fires, 

On which to sink to rest. 



ZARREE ODILL. 183 



Alas ! how lonely and how sad 
The tender heart appears 

Of her who once such blessings had 
And lost in other years ! 



VII. 

Back to our theme. Zarree came home 

When June's bright days were on; 
She came, and ev'ry wish to roam 

From out her heart had gone. 
We think we said that she was fair 

A page behind or more; 
Though handsome then, we now declare 

Her fairer than before; 
For she had learned just when to smile, 

Just when to shed a tear, 
How long to linger at the stile 

With some fond bosom near ; 
In fact, she knew when to be gay. 

And knew when to be sad — 
Knew what a lover meant to say 

Five minutes ere he had. 
She blushed at times ; then tears would rise 

And steal across her cheek; 
Her thoughts appeared in her bright eyes 

Ere she had time to speak. 



l84 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITV. 

VIII. 

When lauded for her beauty she — 

Despite her bosom's stir — 
Made strange that two good eyes could see 

A single charm in her. 
O, she could look so lovely when 

Some tender word was said ! 
She never asked you o'er again — 

And never lost the thread. 
Her voice was charming, sweet, and free, 

For I have heard it ring; 
Well might the mockbird from her tree 

Have paused to hear her sing. 
Her glances fought the Flatterer's heart 

Upon its native field, 
Her beauty sent the sharpest dart 

That ever struck his shield; 
And she could laugh the sweetest laugh, 

Could make it fit the best. 
These were all hers, but yet not half 

The charms that she possessed. 
* 

IX. 

O, such was young Zarree Odill 

When to her threshold came 
One whose fond heart was soon to fill 

With Love's propitious flame ! 



ZARREE ODILL 185 

And he was known as Tyron Dale 

For miles on miles around; 
A league across the winding vale 

His home we often found. 
We knew him long ere sweet Zarree 

Had met him at her door; 
We paint him here, so all can see 

The very smile he wore. 
In stature he was scant six feet, 

And broad his shoulders were; 
His body strong, erect, complete, 

And graceful ev'rywhere. 
His walk was easy, and his gait 

Denoted power of mind; 
He came at eve, nor stayed too late 

To leave some light behind. 



X. 

His face was full, was fresh and soft, 

With countless dimples there ; 
His forehead broad and rose aloft 

To meet his dark-brown hair ; 
He dressed in bright apparel, too — 

The nicest brought to town ; 
His lip a handsome mustache grew, 

We might have called it brown, 



l86 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

And to that lip he seldom pressed ' 

The goblet's poison brim ; 
The filthy weed by some caressed 

No favors had from him; 
And he could make a pleasant talk. 

Could punctuate with smiles, 
Could even make the garden walk 

Serve half a dozen miles. 
O, he had had some love affairs, 

And was a pupil apt; 
Had stolen bait from Beauty's snares, 

And never been entrapped. 



XI. 

And if a century were a square, 

He had one corner passed ; 
But he had kept his youth with care, 

Nor had he lived too fast. 
He spun poetic lines when aught 

Might be attained by them. 
And from the deep, dark mines of Thought 

Had brought forth many a gem; 
He made the grand old violin ring 

When master hands were gone^ 
And he some sweet old songs could sing 

When happy hours came on; 



ZARREE ODILL. 187 

He had been known in boyhood's days 

A tender heart to bear, 
And Beauty had bestowed him praise 

As being bright and fair. 
We've told you now of Tyron Dale, 

And think that you can see 
That he had charms; but to our tale 

Of him and sweet Zarree. 



XII. 

Our hero at the widow's door 

Appeared one lovely eve; 
The two had met some days before, 

And he obtained her leave. 
O, she had on her sweetest smile ! 

She had her laces on. 
Her dress was in the latest style 

And of the richest lawn; 
Soft silken bows to aid her charms 

Were fastened here and there. 
And golden network from her arms 

Hung dangling in the air; 
Her hair was braided on her brow, 

Her room was neat and trim; 
To come that day she had his vow, 

And she expected him. 



l88 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

To Tyron thus appeared Zarree 
When their love work began — 

The gayest of all widows she, 
And he a charming man. 



Canto II. 

I. 
I knew her face — ay, knew it well, 

And it was sweeter far 
Than my rude lines may ever tell, 

Than all my pictures are. 
And Tyron's heart still fonder grew 

That ev'ning- by her side; 
And only for a thing or two 

She might have been his bride. 
He wished a heart, if e'er he wed. 

That ne'er had loved before — 
Some lovely nymph, we might have said, 

From some Elysian shore. 
He fancied that a widow's heart 

In the cold grave should rest 
With him of whom she was a part, 

With what she once caressed. 
This sad mistake oft brooded o'er 

Of all mistakes is worst; 
For women love their second more 

Than e'er they love the first. 

II. 

But on and on the moments went. 
With many a blush and smile, 



I90 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

For Tyron's heart had merriment 

Enough to last awhile. 
Ah, many a tender thing is said 

In Passion's gath'ring storm! 
She blushed, she smiled, would nod her head 

When waxed his subjects warm. 
''My heart is lonely all the while," 

His melting words began; 
"Vve. none to meet me with a smile — 

A sad-souled, homeless man. 
I've no fond heart to press to mine, 

No lip to meet my own — 
A pilgrim to Love's mighty shrine. 

And stumbling on alone; 
I've met with many a lovely maid — 

Ay, many a handsome thing ! — 
Some had been won^ some been betrayed, 

And would not hear me sing. 

III. 

In sooth, if I could find some heart 

Too generous to betray, 
Of Wedlock's sea I'd get a chart 

And sail my bark away; 
Nor would I fear the storms that rise 

At times upon that main ; 
I'd point my streamer to the skies, 

And skim the watery plain. 



ZARREE ODILL. 191 

Tis all in vain that thoughts like these 

Have my fond bosom stirred ; 
I hoist no canvas to the breeze — 

Fm but a mateless bird. 
Be calm, my heart, though sad thou art, 

'Tis folly to repine ; 
We might be gay if one fond heart 

Would cast its lot with thine; 
But none will ever care for me, 

And I'll be cast away 
On the rude rocks in Life's great sea 

Some dark and cruel day." 



IV. 

She sat to hear his discourse o'er. 

Weighed ev'ry tender word, 
Nor thought how oft fond ears before 

Had that same lecture heard ; 
She paused a minute ere she spoke, 

She gazed in Tyron's eyes, 
Her heart beat louder ev'ry stroke, 

Her hopes began to rise. 
There by the parlor window side 

Sat Tyron and Zarree; 
He clasped her hand, and she replied : 

''O, sir ! it seems to me 



192 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

That you have been unlucky quite, 

That you have had your cares; 
But doubtless if I read you right, 

You deal in love affairs. 
No doubt that many a fond heart bleeds 

To hear your love made known; 
And I have laid aside my weeds 

To trust you with my own." 



V. 

She ceased; unto the carpet fell 

Our lover's watchful eye, 
For his warm heart had felt too well 

The truth of her reply. 
He smiled; but that's an idle thing, 

And may at times appear 
When bleeds the heart's most tender string- 
Love's language is a tear! 
We perjure Feeling with a smile 

When tears our heart demands ; 
We sail on Flattery's seas awhile, 

Then sink into their sands. 
He raised his head ; he met Zarree 

With such a loving glance; 
She blushed, for she had fears that he 

Would feel her pulses dance. 



ZARREE ODILL. 193 



He pressed her soft hand tenderly — 
Pressed it a minute more, 

And Tyron's cheek appeared to be 
Much fairer than before. 



VI. 

A light was on his handsome face, 

And 'twas no empty smile; 
It came from Feeling's tender base 

To light his cheek the while. 
She knew that light was Love's own light — 

Experience teaches more 
Of love affairs than volumes bright 

Filled full of Grecian lore. 
A moment passed, and he replied: 

"You seem to doubt the truth; 
With wasteful hand I scattered wide 

The wild oats of my youth ; 
And no fond heart need now have fears 

To share its love with me; 
I'm now in Manhood's sober years — 

Past two and twenty-three. 
Your charms are such, your ways are such, 

That I'm- in love with you ; 
But hold ! for some have said too much, 

As I'm about to do." 
13 



194 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

VII. 
He paused ; he never could have said 

A word that pleased her more, 
One that went quicker through her head, 

Unless the same one o'er. 
Then silence crept in at the door. 

With twilight's tender shade; 
Zarree sat gazing on the floor, 

And no response was made. 
The sun had set 'hind hills of blue, 

The shades were stealing on ; 
He rose, he bade Zarree adieu, 

Stepped out and he was gone. 
Unto the door she followed him, 

But there no pause was made ; 
Her eyes in tears began to swim, 

Her fond heart felt dismayed. 
She watched his white steed prancing on 

Beneath the half-round moon ; 
And doubtless felt that he had gone 

At least an hour too soon. 

VIII. 

Ten long, long sunny days had passed 

Ere Tyron's step returned; 
And though her hopes were failing fast, 

Love's fire still brightly burned. 



ZARREE ODILL. 195 

'Tis strange that we are apt to prize 

Things that we may not gain, 
And cherish hopes that only rise 

To give our bosoms pain. 
'Tis so with us — poor worms of earth, 

The poorest worms by far — 
We know our names and place of birth. 

But know not w^hat we are. 
But to our theme; we said before 

That Tyron's footsteps came. 
Zarree beheld him through the door, 

Her heart was soon aflame, 
And beat two strokes to ev'ry fall 

His feet made on the floor 
As he trod lightly through the hall 

Unto the parlor door. 



IX. 

Soon by her side he made his seat, 

And they were smiling soon, 
And soon two earnest bosoms beat 

To Love's most tender tune; 
But all alone we leave them there — 

Yes, leave them there awhile — 
For thus at times we loved to share 

Our own Dulcenia's smile. 



196 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

We left them there, nor can we tell 

One single word they said; 
We onl}^ know that twilight fell 

Ere he had homeward sped. 
At meetings, singings, balls, and plays 

We saw him by her side, 
And he would call on leisure days 

To spend the ev'ning tide. 
At last the sunny month of June 

Its shining round had run, 
And Madam Rumor said that soon 

The two would be but one. 



X. 

One ev'ning Tyron sent Zarree 

A nicely written note; 
'Twas brief — such things should always be- 

And this is what he wrote: 
''Last night I had sweet dreams of you, 

To-day my thoughts you share; 
On Thursday ev'ning next at two 

Expect me^ foul or fair. 
In spite of all my doubts and fears, 

I've one great boon to ask; 
Take this rude note as it appears, 

And ponder o'er your task," 



ZARREE ODILL. 

By kindred hand that billet went, 

Her bright eyes read it o'er; 
She knew at once what Tyron meant — 

Had hoped for it before. 
He'd talked of love with tearful eye — 

She thought his purpose grand; 
And she had often wondered why 

He had not asked her hand. 



XI. 

That ev'ning came and Tyron went, 

With heart o'erfull of hope; 
Zarree had all that beauty meant, 

And love with his to cope. 
They talked of love, and Tyron said : 

'T came my fate to know; 
And I've a question in my head — 

'Tis answered yes or no. 
That word will make my happiness 

Or spoil my bliss to-day. 
Why look confused? for you can guess 

What Tyron came to say. 
To ask that question brought me here. 

But now my fond hopes fail, 
For no one feels my bosom dear — 

No one loves Tvron Dale. 



197 



198 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Within m}^ heart, though I am loath, 
ril seal that question up ; 

If asked, it might cause one or both 
To sip from Mis'ry's cup." 



XII. 

Some words are sweet if left unsaid, 

Some tales if left untold : 
These thoughts outweighed in Tyron's head 

Her beauty, love, and gold. 
Her face was Ht with Love's pure light, 

Her eyes were full of love; 
She seemed some creature fair and bright 

Descended from above. 
Zarree in heartfelt tones repHed: 

"O, sir ! you may not know 
Who still has hopes to be your bride. 

But waits to tell you so; 
One in your loving smile has basked 

That ne'er could answer no." 
She paused to hear his question asked. 

Her face was all aglov/. 
It never came. He won his bride; 

She found a husband soon. 
Now in their hearts they strive to hide 

That sad, sad afternoon. 



ARL'MIE ZEEN. 



Prelude. 

My Muse, from recent labors freed, 
Went dashing off at breakneck speed. 
"Hold ! hold !" I cried, but on she went 
As though my words but Folly meant. 
I bade her sip from leisure's cup, 
And give me time to copy up ; 
But off she dashed, despite my frown; 
I toiled to scratch her couplets down. 
The untamed steed displays affright, 
When whip and halter meet his sight. 
He snorts, he lifts his head on high. 
The rider mounts, away they fly ; 
The breeze that sweeps the grassy plain. 
Though fleet, toils after him in vain. 
Regardless of his short'ning breath. 
He flies, as if he flew from death ; 
But tired at length, though fiery still, 
He yields him to his rider's will, 
Allows the rein to point his track, 
Nor flinches at the whip's sharp crack ; 
And thus my Muse will be at length. 
When she exhausts her mite of strength. 



ARLMIE ZEEN. 



Canto I. 

I. 

They met to make a romance brief — 
She Arhnie Zeen, he Ullen Weef. 
In her brown ringlets beauty played, 
And on her lips its dwelling made. 
Her hazel eyes had won their share; 
Her rosy cheeks had some to spare. 
'Twas on her face, 'twas in her smile, 
And in her actions all the while. 
In short, 'twas lavished on her form. 
And helped to keep her bosom warm. 
Since we to her our tribute pay 
Of Ullen Weef we've this to say : 
He was as fair a featured man 
As mortal eye need wish to scan. 
In others' griefs he bore his part, 
For his was such a tender heart. 
Few faults had he his charms to mar; 
Was gentle, for all lovers are; 



ARLMIE ZEEN. 20I 

And this of him we might relate : 
At times was gay, at times sedate, 
And he had played in Beauty's bower — 
Paid homage to that gentle Flower, 
Had heard her sweetest numbers sung, 
And sipped Love's richness from her tongue. 



11. 
In verdant regions far away 
They met, when UUen wore the Gray. 
We need not waste another page 
To tell you tales of Ullen's age, 
For he who hears his Country's call 
And renders his assistance all 
Is old enough, and not afraid 
To love or woo a pretty maid. 

III. 
They met ; 'twas at an evening ball, 
At which appeared the gallants all. 
There young Lieutenants took the day, 
Arrayed in bright-new suits of gray. 
They laughed, they talked, they danced at ease, 
And UUen Weef was one of these. 
They met, but we need not relate 
Just when or where or tell the date ; 



202 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Their hearts in Love's embracing" span 
Like molten gold together ran. 



IV. 

He took his seat beside the maid, 

Where winds from jasmine blossoms strayed. 

Alone they sat in fragrant bowers 

To smile away the evening hours. 

About their feet soft herbage grew, 

The skies of June had on their blue, 

Half down the west old Phcebus hung. 

And o'er their heads the wild birds sung. 

V. 

Then in low tones that drifted lower, 
Quoth he : *T never met before 
A female form, by day or night. 
That filled my heart so full at sight; 
But I can make it plainer yet — 
I loved you years before we met; 
Loved all your manners, loved your mien. 
Though such I ne'er before had seen. 
I loved your form and features fair. 
Your sparkling eyes and wavy hair ; 
Ay, loved you, but I knew not where 
Dwelt this bright object of my care." 



ARLMIE ZEEN. 203 

VI. 

He ceased ; she let her eyehds fall. 
The music from the festive hall 
Came floating on the scented air 
That dandled with her silken hair. 
All over the yard, in every shade 
Sat here and there a youth and maid, 
And some an easy seat had found 
Upon the ornamental mound ; 
While two and two stepped out to talk 
And measure o'er the garden walk. 
The well's broad top afforded too 
A seat where Youth might sit and woo. 
The music charmed a goodly throng, 
And some led the brisk dance along. 



VII. 
Five minutes sped on wings away 
Like doves, that pass at close of day, 
Ere from its trance her heart awoke ; 
Then in these words sweet Arlmie spoke : 
"Forgive my boldness, sir; for I 
Need not my heart's fond hopes deny. 
When first mine eyes were turned on thee 
That heart went wild in spite of me. 
'Tis true, fair faces I have seen 
And many a youth of charming mien ; 



204 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

But there is something in your face 
That fills my heart's most vacant place. 
Till late I thought, though I am young, 
That all my siren songs were sung. 
For I had pledged my heart away 
To one that lived on Casco Bay. 



VIII. 

That heart that beat to mine so true 

Now beats beneath a coat of Blue, 

And he has three fond letters sent 

Since entering in the soldier's tent; 

Three letters from the cruel hand 

Now raised to crush my sunny land — 

Three, and no answer shall I send; 

My match with him is at an end. 

But I confess that in my heart 

His image holds no idle part. 

Though time will put his charms to rout 

And wear their deep impressions out. 

Two uncles and three brothers are 

Now victims of this cruel War ; 

And no one will I ever wed 

Who fought the cause for which they bled." 

She ceased, and not to his surprise 

She wiped the tear drops from her eyes. 



ARLMIE ZEEN. 205 

IX. 
Then Silence came to Ullen's heart; 
Her sigh went Hke the pointed dart 
That once a skillful hand let fly, 
And pierced a rash, old Monarch's eye. 
He seemed like one but half awake, 
His lips were still as Lethe's lake ; 
His feelings trembled to their base, 
And doleful looks were on his face. 

X. 
Five minutes from the boughs of Time 
Fair like the dewdrops from the lime, 
Ere his brave heart could overcast 
The spell that bound his feelings fast; 
Five minutes more their flights had made 
Ere he this strange reply essayed: 

XL 
'' 'Tis true that Wars are barbarous things, 
Vain sports for Conquerors and Kings. 
In stubborn hearts they have their birth ; 
They grow and overthrow the earth. 
She trembles with their thundering tread. 
They strew her fields with heaps of dead ; 
With precious blood of victims slain 
They paint the herbage of the plain ; 
With smoke they shroud the golden sun 
And thriving nations overrun ; 



2o6 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

They drive Destruction's plowshare through 
Rich fields where late the harvests grew ; 
They from their beds great rivers turn, 
And they the world's proud cities burn ; 
Their awful thunders shake the sky, 
Their mighty hosts drink rivers dry. 
No herbage springs from out the sod 
Where iron-footed War has trod. 
But why on these sad subjects dwell? 
Why spoil the eve with aught so fell ? 



XII. 

O Man ! proud creature, proudly made ! 

Formed to obey and be obeyed ; 

Thou brightest gem from Nature's mine ! 

Endowed with particles divine; 

Thou mighty monarch of the earth ! 

Allied to Heaven by thy birth. 

Unthoughtful Man ! canst thou not be 

What Heaven sought to make of thee ? 

'Tis, doubtless, time that thou shouldst learn 

To spare and be spared in return ; 

Time to desist from murder now. 

And henceforth bear unblemished brow. 

Why waste thy gifts, increase thy shame, 

To win the curse of earthly Fame ? 



ARLMIE ZEEN. 207 

Why seek to gain what often dies 
Ere thou in death hast shut thine eyes ? 
Gain that bright bauble, and thereby 
Lose thy rich portion in the sky? 

XIII. 
'Tis true, I've donned a Uniform 
And faced stern Battle's dreadful storm; 
Been where his awful thunders roared. 
Been where his murderous tempest poured ; 
Yes, been where Butchery's work was done, 
And seen the crimson current run. 
I have my faults, but others are 
To blame for this most shameful War." 

XIV. 
He ceased; his loving smile had gone 
As Arlmie gazed his face upon ; 
That face a sad expression wore, 
He looked not as he looked before. 
But she these tender words began, 
And UUen seemed another man : 
"You would not want that maiden's heart 
In which an Enemy had part, 
And doubtless you would scorn to share 
The love once placed within his care, 
And would perchance disdain to hear 
The vow that fell upon his ear. 



208 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

If e'er you loved a human form 
With all thy heart's affections warm, 
You know that it is past my power 
To cool my feelings in an hour; 
But, as I told you once before, 
He's not and shall be mine no more. 

XV. 

I loved him, but I have withdrawn 

The heart that had twelve months been gone ; 

Withdrew that heart, bade him adieu 

Three long months ere I met with you. 

I wept and told my sad heart then 

That it should never love again ; 

But all such vows as this are frail 

Rehearsals of the same old tale : 

We sometimes sow, nor aim to reap, 

Sometimes make vows we cannot keep. 

At times we grumble at our fate, 

Our loads of Care become so great, 

Their long-borne ills to mitigate 

We struggle, but increase their weight." 

XVI. 

She said no more, and from her side 
Our Soldier rose and thus replied: 
'The sun behind the hill has gone, 
And the gay dance goes wheeling on. 



ARLMIE ZEEN. 209 

If we expect to get our share, 
'Tis doubtless time that we were there. 
Hear how the music rides the breeze ; 
His heart is cold, such would not please. 
Those notes proclaim a master's touch, 
The tune is one I love so much. 
Think not that I'm displeased with you, 
For while you spoke my passion grew ; 
Think not that you have said one word 
That I might wish I had not heard ; 
One word that e'er may chance to make 
My heart for one brief moment ache. 
I'm not displeased, you treat me right; 
We'll talk our chances o'er to-night." 
14 



Canto II. 

I. 

O where is he, though full fourscore, 
Unto whose mind returns no more 
The face that once in boyhood's morn 
Met him beneath the aged thorn ? 
And where is he of sixty years 
To whose dim vision ne'er appears 
Those silken tresses, laughing eyes, 
That made so bright his youthful skies ? 
And where is he of ten years less 
Whose heart is now too cold to bless 
That hallowed spot, that sacred nook, 
Down by the gently murmuring brook, 
Where one's soft hand in his was laid, 
And where her fondest vows were made — 
One who was destined ere her prime 
To cause the church bell's solemn chime ; 
Yes, one, a gentle flower, o'er whom 
Fond hands were soon to dress the tomb? 
But hold, my Muse, our time wears on. 
And half our chosen space is gone. 



ARLMIE ZEEN. 21I 

II. 

We must be brief — deep midnight came, 
And still the dance went on the same. 
Our Soldier and sweet Arlmie Zeen 
Had much enjoyed the sportive scene. 
They too had danced, they too had played. 
Like others o'er the lawn had strayed. 
And as the morning hours sped on. 
Too soon to bring the cheerful dawn, 
He took his seat by Arlmie's side 
And thus to her response repHed: 

III. 

"Sweet Girl ! think not that I request 

His image driven from thy breast. 

Such boon as this I need not ask. 

Since you your whole warm heart unmask. 

In Life's bright morn I paused to sip 

Love draughts from Beauty's glowing lip; 

My hope was in its blossom then. 

And I, the gayest of all men. 

Just as Life's cup o'erflowed its brim 

Up stalked a Monster, grave and grim ; 

He waved his bony hand and slim, 

Then my bright Idol knelt to him; 

And she, who else had been my own, 

Now slumbers 'neath the silent stone. 



212 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

I've tried to put her memory by, 
But cannot, and 'tis vain to try ; 
Thus let it be without delay, 
I come to what I wish to say. 

IV. ' 

I love you, and you seem to feel 
No common interest in my weal; 
And I shall seek a w'ife in you 
When I have fought the service through. 
Your charms have made a slave of me. 
My heart pours out its wealth to thee ; 
Then, say, all angel as thou art. 
Has love for me place in thy heart? 
Say if you think that by my side 
You'd like to spend Life's evening tide ; 
Toil by my side, while thou hast breath, 
And slumber by my side in death." 

V. 

He paused ; on eagle pinions sped 
A moment ere she raised her head. 
From her bright eyes into his own 
At once Love's potent dart was thrown. 
He felt the presence of that dart. 
And welcomed it into his heart. 
Her eyes had thrice their answer made 



ARLMIE ZEEN, 213 

Ere her soft lips sweet "Yes" conveyed. 
Then his to her warm lips were pressed ; 
He caught her to his heaving breast, 
And Arlmie, in that fond embrace, 
Felt his soft mustache brush her face. 

VI. 

By this the matchless king of day 

Had changed the East from black to gray ; 

And they, who all that night had spent 

In various sorts of merriment, 

Bade the fair Ladies all adieu. 

And when the cocks for morning crew. 

Away on scampering chargers went 

To join their comrades in the tent. 

VII. 

All went but one, who still talked on 

A moment after they had gone; 

And he had paused, as could be seen, 

To take his leave of Arlmie Zeen. 

His steed, when left, uneasy grew, 

And he appeared impatient too; 

For he had thrice prepared to ride. 

But lingered still by Arlmie's side. 

The two clasped hands, exchanged good-bys ; 

She saw the tears in Ullen's eyes. 



2^4 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

He went his way, nor slacked his pace, 
And tear drops stood on Arlmie's face. 
She bade him call, and by her side 
To spend the second evening tide. 
She little dreamed, kind-hearted thing. 
Of what another day would bring. 

VIII. 
All praise to thee. Almighty God! 
Thou called me from the silent clod ; 
Infused into this breast of mine 
A spark of that great soul of Thine; 
Gave life and motion to my form. 
And filled my heart with feelings warm ; 
Into my brain a mind instilled, 
And all my breast with passions filled ; 
And Thou the senses five bestowed. 
As aids o'er Life's uneven road. 
Thou all these blessings gave me here 
To guide me on this mundane sphere. 
And promised me, if I obey, 
To crown me on that golden Day, 
When severed portions shall unite. 
Prepared to make their homeward flight. 
I praise Thee for what is revealed. 
And praise for what Thou hast concealed. 
I'm glad that Thou hast deemed it wise 
To veil the future from our eyes; 



ARLMIE ZEEN. 

Glad that Thau, in Thy wisdom great, 
Hast hid from us the book of Fate ! 



IX. 

The morrow brought not Ullen's face. 
The hours dragged on and on apace ; 
The thunders woke and shook the earth — 
That day gave Gettysburg its birth ; 
Those guns filled Arlmie's heart with care, 
She wept, for him she loved was there; 
Wept hot tears, but to no avail, 
For faster flew that iron hail. 
And there that breast that loved her so 
Then served as target for the foe. 

X. 

day too horrid to appear 

In this brief romance pictured here ! 
Too dark, too cruel, and too sad ! 
Unless at hand more space I had. 
If I should live a few years more 
To whine my homespun fancies o'er, 

1 aim to paint that deadly fray 

In deathless lines some future day. 
And shall for it reserve a page 
When I my Lyre's great task engage. 



215 



2i6 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

XL 

Ah ! when the last report was still 
And ceased to echo on the hill, 
Sweet Silence spread her pinions o'er 
That hill and vale, so stained with gore ; 
Then ears that for three hot days had 
By thunder peals been driven mad 
Were left, for years on years to come. 
To echo that day's dreadful hum. 
I shudder still when I recall 
Fort Donelson, though I was small — 
Yes, shudder still, and still can hear 
Those awful peals ring in mine ear ; 
Chilled then, my blood still coldly runs 
To think upon those murderous guns. 
And of the bosoms true and brave 
That suffered by the blast they gave. 
Ne'er till my spark has flown away 
Shall I forget that cruel day. 

XII. 

But why detain the reader here 
With lines that may displease his ear ? 
Why let such thoughts engage my mind? 
For other things are yet behind. 
The battle closed, and Arlmie sought 
The very spot where it was fought. 



ARLMIE ZEEN. 217 

From some strange cause she seemed aware 
That him she loved was wounded there. 
At last she reached that field of gore, 
And paused to view its havoc o'er ; 
Then onward sped until she came 
Where War had played his hottest game ; 
And there, stretched out upon the green, 
Her former Beau's cold corpse was seen. 
The shot that through his bosom tore 
Had stilled his heart for evermore. 

XIII. 

A moment there she slacked her pace 
And gazed upon his pale, pale face; 
Then onward she a few steps strayed, 
And there her wounded lover laid. 
Around him in Death's silence lay 
A Bluecoat there and here a Gray. 
She neared his side, he faintly smiled; 
She knelt beside him like a child ; 
One hand on his cold brow she pressed. 
The other on his bleeding breast ; 
There had the foeman's cruel shell 
Plowed through the breast she loved so well. 
A tear came in his deep, dark eye, 
His gory fingers wiped it dry. 



2i8 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

She bent to kiss his cold, cold cheek, 
Her heart was full, too full to speak; 
He saw at once that it was broke. 
His eye met hers and thus he spoke : 

XIV. 

"Sweet Arlmie, faithful, fond, and true, 
I fear not death since I'm with you ! 
I love you still, and glad am I 
To see your face before I die. 
It's been my fondest hope to be 
A loving husband unto thee ; 
Beside thee spend Life's Httle day. 
And rest by thine my silent clay. 
But all in vain, for now I feel 
Death's coldness o'er my bosom steal; 
I seem to see a-down the glen 
My far-off little home again; 
The orchard, mead, and level lane 
Just as I left them still remain; 
And I my snow-white cottage see 
Where I had hoped to dwell with thee ; 
The gate, the walk, the yard, the pines. 
The arbor with its clustering vines, 
The well, the bucket, and the sweep 
Before mine eyes in silence creep. 



, ARLMIE ZEEN. 

From that old well I'd fain restore 
Unto my lips one cold draught more ; 
Then I could sleep well satisfied 
Since all I love is by my side. 
I feel still Death approaching now, 
His cold, cold sweat is on my brow. 
Here take my watch and ring of gold. 
Farewell, farewell, I'm gone, I'm cold !' 
He gave one feeble gasp for breath, 
And there lay fast asleep in death. 



219 



O-RENE' NEL-REE'. 



Prelude. 

What! another poem up? Yes, 

And six rude twenties cantered through. 
Well, I never can quit, much less 

Write nobly as I wish to do. 
I've half a mind to change my plan 

And drown this volume in the deep. 
For fear it grieves some manly man 

And makes soul-soothing Woman weep. 
My Muse toils on — Sense stares aghast, 

Unable to conceive her text. 
If this stale stuff is not her last, 

Folly ! what will be the next ? 
I've said I would, and mean to print 

When this rude Lay winds to a close; 
But here it might be well to hint 

1 may have neither verse or prose. 
I might have known that it was vain 

To strive for things beyond my reach. 
There's nothing in an empty brain; 
An untaught mind can nothing teach. 



ORENE NELREE. 
Canto I. 

I. 
They met ; their hearts had bled before, 

For he had wooed her in the past. 
Three long, long years had all closed o'er. 

But Love had bound his fetters fast. 
Back in the Past a grave mistake — 

A word that fell from jealous lips — 
Had made her cheerful bosom ache, 

And served to work her love's eclipse ; 
Though slight the cause, she turned away, 

And he disdained to question why ; 
He saw his blooms of Hope decay. 

And threw them from him with a sigh. 
The seal upon his heart was set ; 

He bade to Joy a long good-by. 
By chance another day they met; 

She failed to speak; he passed her by. 
At length she found her error out. 

But felt too loath to make amends. 
They met at gatherings round about; 

Though lovers still, no longer friends. 



222 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

II. 

No one e'er heard him call her name, 

And none e'er heard her mention him. 
She left the circle when he came, 

Or met his glance with visage grim. 
A year or two of this had passed, 

When lo ! she chose his comrade's hand 
And spread her canvas to the blast ; 

A pilgrim then to Hymen's land. 
He shuddered when the sad, sad news 

Of her strange marriage met his ear. 
O what could then his heart amuse, 

Or then his sinking spirits cheer? 
A few nights from their bridal day 

A gathering at a neighbor's cot 
Called out the handsome and the gay, 

But Dillworth was expected not; 
And, though invited, no one thought 

To meet his handsome features there. 
They knew how hard his heart had fought 

To conquer that grim tyrant — Care. 

III. 

It was a lovely Autumn night, 

The day had bright and shiny been ; 

The festive hall was warm and bright, 
And two and two the guests came in ; 



ORENE NELREE. 223 

The room began to ring with song, 

And Joy stood on her light tiptoe, 
When there appeared amid the throng 

The features of our sHghted beau. 
We need not pause to state how fair 

His face appeared to sweet Orene; 
His silken mustache, soft brown hair. 

Had filled the eye of Beauty's queen ; 
His forehead broad and manly face 

And hazel eyes were handsome too ; 
His actions were all ease and grace, 

Like Chesterfield's his manners grew. 
His voice was soft, he talked with ease; 

His themes were pleasing all the while ; 
He knew to win, he knew to please ; 

Knew how to call forth Beauty's smile. 

IV. 
Since I have wasted half a page 

To speak of what had charmed Orene, 
Why not another half engage 

To tell of her own pleasing mien? 
O she was fair in form and face! 

Her eyes were of the brightest blue ; 
Each raven ringlet knew its place, 

And, knowing it, retained it too. 



224 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Her face was soft, and on her cheek 

Had Beauty spilt her brightest dye ; 
Her voice — alas ! I heard her speak, 

And lost my boyish heart thereby. 
Orene of manners had her share, 

And e'en her share of mirth and wit ; 
Her beauty was a tempting snare, 

And she was well aware of it. 
Her heart was light, despite the falls 

That it in time had undergone ; 
Her laughter rang in festal halls. 

And with the gay she sported on. 

V. 

When Dillworth came Orene's light heart 

Beat higher, faster, louder beat. 
Some know how youthful b)osoms smart 

When face to face true lovers meet. 
They met, they smiled, fair Dillworth bowed. 

And cast one sweet glance in her eyes ; 
That glance dispelled the darksome cloud 

That had obscured her mental skies. 
She loved him still ; a breath had blown 

The ashes from Love's smold'ring fires. 
And on her face its bright light shone. 

O who can hide her heart's desires ? 



ORENE NELREE. 

She met his smile with one as sweet, 

And he returned her ardent gaze. 
The coals were stirred ; he felt their heat. 

'Twixt them Love's fires began to blaze. 
Her eyes the light of love revealed, 

And she in his the same descried; 
'Tis hard to keep that spark concealed — 

I need not say that I have tried. 

VI. 

Love thrills the heart, illumes the face, 

Inserts a luster in the eyes, 
Gives to our actions ease and grace. 

And makes this world a paradise. 
It gives the voice a softer tone. 

Secures the cheek a brighter glow ; 
By it faint hearts have stronger grown, 

It smoothes the path o'er which we go ; 
It sends the Soldier to the war. 

The Sailor o'er the boiling brine. 
The Miner from his home afar. 

And points into the deep dark mine ; 
It holds the plow that rolls the sward. 

The ax that fells the forest wide. 
And 'tis the Poet's best reward, 

The Parson's forte, the Rustic's pride ; 
15 



225 



226 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

It nerves the hand that steers the ship, 
The smoky horse of Commerce guides; 

Imprints the smile on Beauty's Hp, 
And in her tender heart resides. 



Canto II. 

I. 

Ten years, the saddest of his hfe, 

Had passed since her mistake was made ; 
She had a husband, he a wife; 

And they to them had homage paid, 
When Dillworth sought her cottage door 

And 'neath its roof she welcomed him 
Into the room where long before 

He sighed to see his hopes grow dim. 
'Twas morning, and the soft sunlight 

Poured through the window on the floor. 
'Twas spring, the zephyrs in their flight 

Sought entrance at the western door. 
Orene that lovely morning wore 

Those old-time smiles upon her face ; 
Her blue eyes sparkled as of yore, 

Her manners were o'erfull of grace. 
Her face was soft, she looked as young 

As when he reveled by her side ; 
She held him spellbound with her tongue, 

And with her charms his fancies tied. 

II. 

Fair Dillworth sat a long, long while ; 
His heart was filled with memories sweet ; 



228 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

For him Orene had many a smile, 

And many a word his ear to greet. 
At length quoth he : ''Hard have I wrought 

To drive this fondness from my breast ; 
Yes, and its slightest symptom fought ; 

Likewise each tender thought repressed. 
I've struggled to forget your face, 

And tried to wean my heart from thee ; 
Yea, tear from memory's close embrace 

Each word that you have said to me. 
Hard have I toiled, but toiled for naught, 

For thou art growing dearer still. 
Love's fire, when once securely caught. 

Burns on despite a monarch's will. 
I thought to keep it in the dark 

Where fancy's wing might fan it not. 
That I might smother out that spark 

And thy fair face might be forgot." 

III. 

He ceased to speak, her love-lit eye 
Its fondness poured into his own. 

It made him think of years gone by 
When they were in the bowers alone. 

At last quoth she : "I need not speak 
Since you my feelings have portrayed. 

The fault was mine, and on my cheek 



ORENE NELREE. 

My tears, since then, have rivers made. 
My thoughtless heart all these long years 

Has ached and bled and pined for you. 
My judgment errs, supinely errs, 

And folly would as wisely do. 
I know that in my heart's deep core 

I should have kept these words concealed. 
Love's key unlocks the miser's door. 

His javelins pierce the warrior's shield; 
He tears the prison bars apart, 

He sways the head that wears the crown ; 
Then how could I in this frail heart 

Expect to keep his longings down?" 

IV. 

"Yes, Lady, love can glad the heart, 

Or drive that thing into despair ; 
And one as lovely as thou art 

Should never quaff the cup of Care. 
We err, but older ones have erred 

From worse intents than thine or mine 
When love within their hearts appeared. 

And there reared up its mighty shrine. 
To love a soul-sought Woman is 

A duty that man owes to her. 
If earthly angels are, she's his. 

And man should be her worshiper ; 



229 



230 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

And when pure nobleness of heart 

Is Hnked to lovely face and form, 
It is his duty to impart 

His love to her^ however warm; 
And, prompted thus, I have made known 

A part of what my heart contains. 
Through all these years my love has grown. 

Though I have kept it bound in chains." 

V. 

He ceased ; the big, bright tears had crept 

Into Orene's soft eyes of blue. 
"Despite my will, my heart has kept 

Its fire of love alive for you, 
And never till the darksome mold 

Is heaped above my silent breast 
Shall I forget my treatment cold 

To him, who all my heart possessed. 

do forgive me ! if you can ; 
But I can ne'er myself forgive, 

Since I have made one noble man 
Too sad to die, too sad to live. 

1 sought to play no wanton's part. 

Or keep some monstrous secret hid; 
But 'twas sheer thoughtlessness of heart 
That made me stumble as I did. 



ORENE NELREE. 231 

And it is ten long years too late 

To mend my folly's sad mistake. 
My faithless heart deserves its fate — 

Deserves to bleed, deserves to break! 

VL 

I found, but found it out too late, 

That she who all your follies knew 
Was willing, at an early date, 

To yield her heart and hand to you." 
Quoth he : "I knew some meddling tongue 

Had helped thy heart to break its vow ; 
We might, when all our hopes were young, 

Have mended it, but cannot now. 
Here, take my hand ; farewell ! farewell !" 

They viewed each other through a tear. 
When in the hall his footsteps fell, 

A sweet "Good-by !" rang in his ear. 
Ye, who have made lifetime mistakes. 

Through anger, pride, or thoughtlessness. 
In this may find your own heartaches 

And taste your cup of bitterness. 
Ye young, who may my Poem read, 

Ye who in time expect to wed. 
Beware ! beware ! how you proceed — 

You see how these fond hearts have bled. 



DEL-GI'THA UL'LA-WAIM'. 

Prelude. 

O come, my Muse ! no rest have we, 

No shady grove in which to bask ; 
Our course is onward Hke the sea — 

One finished adds another task ; 

What's yet to come forbear to ask : 
No rest till life is put behind 

Or I have emptied out my cask ; 
Then come, my Muse, thy wings unbind, 
And help me throw this rubbish from my mind. 



DELGITHA ULLAWAIM. 

Canto I. 

I. 

O Beauty ! at thy pleasing shrine 

I knelt when life was in its dawn, 
And I perceive this heart of mine 

Grows fonder as the years steal on ; 

But now to her cold grave has gone 
The young fair form that charmed my heart 

A pilgrim o'er Life's midday lawn 
I'm now, and mindful of the smart 
My bosom felt when we were forced to part. 

II. 

O Muse ! no long, long road have we 
To travel o'er to find our theme. 

And we shall plow no foaming sea, 
And glide adown no silver stream. 
Or strive to paint an idle dream. 

In two fond hearts that once we knew 
We find the essence, find the cream 

Of what we yet shall bring to view, 

Unless we flag before our task is through. 



234 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

III. 

She slumbers now, and he would fain 

Bid his o'er-busy memory sleep 
And rest his heart, but all in vain ; 

There is no rest on Life's great deep ; 

He with the tide is doomed to keep 
Till death shall still his mortal frame 

And Friendship's tender hands shall heap 
The yellow dust upon the same, 
And raise the stone disfigured by his name. 

IV. 

But hold ! our theme is yet behind, 

If we that childish tale relate, 
That dwells as freshly in my mind 

As if it were of recent date. 

O Fate, Fate ! cruel, cruel Fate ! 
Why hast thou wrought such changes dire 

In human hearts, both small and great? 
But Where's my theme ? I seem to tire. 
And on these idle fancies waste my fire. 

V. 

But on we go prepared to sing 
Of sweet Delgitha Ullawaim; 

She was as bright and fair a thing 
As ever dwelt in mortal frame; 
But that was not her real name, 



DELGITHA ULLAWAIM. 235 

Though it will serve my present need 
And fill my purpose just the same, 
For that which made his bosom bleed 
Ere he who writes had writing learned to read. 

VI. 

Her eyes were black — aye, black as jet; 

Her ringlets were as black as these. 
And o'er a handsome brow they met 

To sport with every roguish breeze ; 

Her manners never failed to please, 
Her voice was like the little bird's 

That sung its anthem in the trees; 
She had soft cheeks and tender words. 
Two mighty powers that sway the human herds. 

VII. 
She went to school, and he was there 

Who scribbles o'er this very page ; 
That school was in his father's care. 

And she had scarcely reached that age 

When little lassie may engage 
Her mind in Learning's busy fane. 

At first the schoolroom was a cage, 
But soon she found that its domain 
Was larger than she e'er had hoped to gain. 



236 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

VIII. 
Perchance it might be prudent here 

To picture out that humble hall ; 
For some may read these lines who ne'er 

O'er such sad tenement let fall 

Their eyes on this stupendous ball; 
And it might be a gracious treat 

To Fortune-favored readers all 
To see where tyros used to meet 
And toil away the moments bright and sweet. 

IX. 

A few steps from Buck Creek's low bed, 

Up in an old untended field, 
Where bushes grew, where briers spread. 

And sumacs made a goodly yield — 

There, to the startled sight revealed, 
That time-worn, tattered temple smiled, 

And to each Tyro's heart appealed 
For sympathy unfeigned and mild, 
Tho' Time's rude touch had ev'ry part defiled. 

X. 

Round logs were used to build the wall, 
Rough ones, unlined, unscored, unhewn. 

Their ends were chopped and haggled all — 
Some went too far, some quit too soon. 
Just like our notions of the moon; 



DELGITHA ULLAWAIM. 

The roof was boards, the loft the same, 
The door smiled on the sun at noon. 
And through its low, unsightly frame 
Let out who left, admitted those who came. 

XL 
The end that faced the glowing east 

A huge stick chimney occupied ; 
One-half the building's width at least 

That old-time structure served to hide. 

The floor was formed of puncheons wide. 
Split from great oaks that grew in sight; 

Clay dirt and rails the cracks supplied 
And served to make the building tight. 
Shut out the cold and e'en shut out the light. 

XII. 
A long, long window one pane wide 

Above the writing desk was lain ; 
That homely desk all ease denied — 

An oaken plank of coarse, rough grain, 

Quite unacquainted with the plane. 
On sloping pegs fast in the wall; 

A thing as simple and as plain 
As proud Invention e'er let fall. 
At that rude desk this hand began to scrawl. 



n? 



238 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

XIII. 

That house a Tenant's hut had been, 

But he had gone long years before. 
Fond hands had reared the seats within, 

And out of clapboards made the door. 

Those seats were simply nothing more 
Than black oak saplings large and straight. 

From bark to bark split through the core ; 
No back, no desk to bear the weight 
Of lazy student when the hour grew late. 

XIV. 
In that rude hut Delgitha met 

The soft-haired, smooth-faced little lad 
That loved her then and loves her yet, 

And she for him like passion had ; 

But their strange destiny forbade 
Their buds of morn to bloom at noon ; 

Their fate decreed some changes sad. 
Decreed their separation soon. 
Farewell, farewell, ye sun-bright days of June ! 



Canto II. 

I. 

He knows who knew those childish hearts 
That each an unfeigned fondness felt; 

They nothing knew of Cupid's darts, 
But felt their little bosoms melt, 
Each image in each bosom dwelt. 

Hail, happy, little, loving pair ! 

They read and many a lesson spelt 

Within that hovel, rude and bare ; 

Their morning sun rose bright and lovely there. 

II. 

Oft would she glance into his eyes, 

And he would that sweet glance return, 

And sometimes too, to her surprise. 
Some watchful student dared to spurn 
The flame that he had seen to burn ; 

And then those dimpled cheeks would blush, 
Her bright, bright eyes away would turn, 

And her smooth features whisper : "Hush ! 

My heart o'er flows ; I feel the torrent rush." 

III. 

And when came round the noontide hour 
Delgitha met that little boy. 



240 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

And she on him contrived to shower 
Many a smile and many a toy. 
Their little hearts were full of Joy — 

Too full to dream of future years, 
Or aught the future might employ. 

O sad mistake ! this truth appears 

That he is wise and great who never errs. 

IV. 

childhood, childhood, bright and fair ! 
I would thou couldst return again ; 

Thy days were unalloyed with care 
And my young heart was happy then. 
Ere through the bustling herd of men 

1 had been forced to push my way. 
Then seek at night my humble den 

To sleep, and rise the coming day 

With heart resolved to keep the wolf away. 

V. 

At last that rustic school closed out^ 

And those young hearts were severed then ; 
Then ceased the schoolboy's merry shout 

To echo down the wooded glen. 

When spring came on it brought the wren, 
The swallow, and the grave pewee. 

They built and reared their young again 



DELGITHA ULLAWAIM. 241 

There in the very room where we 

For eight long months had toiled so earnestly. 

VI. 
The school was closed, a fortnight passed ; 

Her transient father sold his farm. 
Ah ! then a thunderbolt was cast 

And brought forth trembling and alarm 

In two young hearts that arm in arm 
For those eight months had sailed along ; 

Then life began to lose its charm 
And hearts beat low that once beat strong, 
And earth had lost her merriment and song. 

VII. 
He sold his farm, but ere he moved 

He gave an after supper's ball — 
A custom in that day approved 

By some weak saints and sinners all. 

'Tis sad to know that Christians fall 
O'er some such stumbling-block as this ; 

Then drink Sin's bitterness and gall. 
And go where arch fiends howl and hiss, 
For nothing but a night of sinful bliss. 

VIII. 
The hour came on, the dancers came ; 
Fair faces and light hearts were there, 
16 



242 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

And nothing to Delgitha's shame; 
Of Joy her heart drank in its share, 
Because that little boy was there 

Whose features fair, whose nature mild, 
Whose hazel eyes and soft brown hair 

Had charmed the heart of that bright child. 

They met that night and sweet Delgitha smiled. 

IX. 

He came ; his father came with him. 

Delgitha met them at the door. 
O she was handsome, neat, and trim ! 

And on that lovely night she wore 

A sweeter smile than e'er before 
That little boy had seen her wear. 

They viewed each other o'er and o'er. 
And looked as if right then and there 
Each unto each might these same words declare 

X. 

"Sweet little maid, I came to-night 

To gaze into thy tender eyes 
And tell thee ere thou tak'st thy flight 

How in my heart thy image lies ; 

My tears are vain, and vain my sighs. 
For thou and I are doomed to part; 

Dark clouds o'ercast my mental skies, 



DELGITHA ULLAWAIM. 243 

But I shall see thee as thou art, 

And keep thee till we meet within my heart." 



XL 

"O sir! thy words relieve me much; 

They tell what I had fain expressed, 
And I perceive their tender touch 

Has stirred within my faithful breast 

Chords that will not subside to rest 
Till death shall bid their tremblings cease. 

Alike my heaving heart arrest; 
Then this o'erlabored mind release 
And by my silent embers whisper Teace.' 

XII. 

Sometimes we ponder o'er the past, 

And wonder why such things were so ; 
Sometimes our skies are overcast 

By murky clouds that come and go, 

And only hide the crimson glow 
Of Phoebus for a little while. 

Our tides of life in time may flow 
To many an Ocean-favored isle. 
Where fruits and flowers and love and beauty 
smile." 



244 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

XIII. 
"O trusting heart ! the future may 

Unfold more things than we expect, 
And we may meet another day, 

And talk of cares that now affect 

Our little hearts ; but I suspect 
Our course may point o'er Life's great sea, 

Where larger vessels have been wrecked. 
Our ships must part ere long, and we 
May nevermore each other's canvas see." 

XIV. 
The dance was closed at break of day. 

And those fond hearts were parted then. 
That morn Delgitha moved away ; 

Alas ! they never met again. 

She died ; he knew not where or when ; 
But he lives on to love her yet, 

Lives on, amid the herd of men. 
And never, never can forget 
That pretty face, dark eyes, and locks of jet. 



EN'NIS O'LAN. 



Prelude. 

In bygone years my Muse portrayed 
Some scenes in Love's delightful bower, 
And snatched from grim Oblivion's breast 
Some thoughts that else had slept for aye ; 
But of those years a remnant left 
Still lingers in my restless heart, 
Still pants and struggles to be free. 
Then blame her not should she aspire 
To pour out those belated thoughts, 
And therefore set my heart at ease. 



ENNIS OLAN. 



Canto I. 

I. 

One Man in Eden's garden slept 

When so ft- winged zephyrs fanned the flowers, 

And birds upon the fragrant air 

Poured songs of love from every tree — 

Ay, slept, and that same skillful Hand 

That framed the mighty Universe, 

And in the vaults of Heaven hung 

The king of day, the queen of night, 

And all the sparkling planets out. 

Unclosed his side and drew therefrom 

A portion of his mateless breast. 

Of which to form his gentle mate, 

n. 

The wheels of Time's great car rolled on — 

That Man from his deep sleep awoke 

To see what Heaven's hand had made 

And set in beauty by his side. 

That jewel of all earthly things, 

The sweetest flower by Life's roadside. 

Cheerful, charming, graceful Woman ! 



ENNIS OLAN. 2^y 

Her face lit by an angel smile, 
Her tresses floating on the breeze ; 
The fairest form that Heaven's hand 
E'er made and into being brought — 
So sweet, so winning, and so bright, 
The Man knelt at her sainted feet 
And paid his homage at her shrine. 
If Woman made her presence felt 
In Eden's bowers of bloom and song. 
Why wonder if her sway survives 
The wreck of all the ages past? 

III. 

But why go back six thousand years, 
With none but Reason's flick'ring lamp, 
To search through all the dirt and sand 
In "the vast heaps of Mystery 
That mountainlike arise and frown 
Beside the bygone path of Man ? 
Why tire the Reader with plain stuff 
Before our plain love tale begins ? 
As but a few short years have flown 
Since what we dare to sing transpired 
'Twixt two fair forms that played and lost 
The game of Life in which they played. 



248 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

IV. 

A flood of golden sunlight fell 
From out the morning skies of June, 
While roguish zephyrs whispered by 
And wild birds sang their sweetest lays, 
When Duscan paused a little while 
'Neath charming Ennis Olan's roof. 
Years had passed by them since, before, 
His light foot fell within her bower. 
And she had wed with one to spite 
The fair- faced being by her side. 

V. 

All smoothly had the swelling tide 
Of their untroubled Courtship run. 
And streamlike had it murmured on 
By mossy pebbles in its bed. 
And by the little banks of sand 
In days when her soft hand was free ; 
Their hearts were fond and void of Care 
Till Gossip's many-meddling tongues 
The poison seeds of Discord spread. 
Dropped whirlpools in their seas of life. 
Threw storm-clouds in their shining skies. 
And crossed their paths with flaming swords. 



ENNIS OLAN. 249 

VI. 

O Truth, great boon to every clime ! 
The rarest and the sweetest bird 
That ever warbled in the bowers 
Or feathered in an earthly nest ! 
Blithe warbler, thou for whom we seek. 
But, Leon-like, oft seek in vain 
Till Falsehood's ugly hand has made 
Impressions on impatient hearts 
Too deep for thy slow coming wing 
With its soft touch to brush away. 

VII. 

On, on, my Muse ! fair Ennis fanned 
With one sweet smile and silvery laugh 
Love's whitening embers to a blaze 
On the lone altar of his heart. 
She o'er his gentle feelings swayed. 
As is best known to Beauty's self, 
Till his morbific bosom filled 
With Love's first fondness and delight. 
Poor Duscan gazed, in silence gazed, 
On the rich glow that warmed her cheek. 
Still dreaming of the days gone by 
And of the love her lips expressed 
One rare and cheerful morning when 
Her angel form before him stood 



250 



WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

In all its youth and loveliness, 
Ere birdlike Hope unfurled its wing, 
And, flying, from his painful breast 
Elsewhere secured its welcome couch. 

VIII. 
Sweet Ennis thought of moments gone 
And wondered if his heaving heart 
Its unremitting vigils kept 
Like hers o'er those delightful hours — 
Ay, wondered why that youthful hearts 
Were prone to make such dire mistakes. 
And cast away the shining gems 
That after years would need so much. 
She wondered how that Envy's tongue 
Could in an hour more darkness bring 
Than Manliness could chase away 
In half the busy days of life. 

IX. 
Hope's sunlight flooded Duscan's way, 
His future bright and cheerful seemed, 
And his, to her soft eyes of blue. 
Spoke Love that seemed to scoff at time. 
He knew by that sweet smile which came 
Like sundown's blush upon her cheek 
That her poor heart like his remained 



ENNIS OLAN. 251 

As fond, as faithful, and as true ; 
And knew that if her feet could go 
Again o'er Life's uneven road 
He unto whom she made her troth 
No more would journey by her side. 

X. 

The blush of youth lay lingering on 
Our fair-haired lover's dimpled brow, 
And she who met his hazel eye 
That morn beheld some sparkles there 
Of pure Affection's sacred fire ; 
In fact, beheld that his proud heart 
In silence had its vigils kept 
For years at one vain Woman's feet. 
These truths she read in Duscan's face 
And saw the blush o'erspread his cheek 
Ere words like these from his warm lips 
Fell in sweet Ennis Olan's ear: 

XI. 
"The gem that sparkles at our feet 
Is brilliant, rare, and lovely too. 
Till one far in the distance shines 
And seems to shed a brighter glow. 
Our chance-led feet go stumbling on, 
Unmindful of the thorny way. 
To lose the first gem, find the next, 



252 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

And gain the duller of the two. 
The bloom that blushes by our path 
And sends rich stores of fragrance out 
Delights us with its loveliness 
And soothes us in our lonely hours, 
Till one, far from our path, appears 
More fragrant and more beautiful. 
We pluck that flower and sigh to find 
A poison worm celled in its heart. 
The bird that wakes at rosy dawn 
And blithely carols by our door 
Unheeded, often sings her song 
And flies to some more genial clime ; 
Too oft when that bright bird has flown, 
And those delightful songs are o'er, 
Earth has no gem we would not give 
To have the bird and music back. 

XII. 

Some Beauties love, sincerely love. 
But those they love are slow to wed. 
And ask a year or two to make 
Some changes in Life's rude affairs ; 
But Women's hearts impatient get; 
They weary of a long delay, 
And some are vain enough to throw 
A fond and faithful lover by, 



ENNIS OLAN. 253 

And stoop to wed the wily wretch 

That meets them on Life's lone roadside ; 

Then life becomes a desert drear, 

A burthen and a Solitude. 

Not these alone are left to grieve 

O'er what their hasty hands have done, 

For other hearts are made to pine 

And other eyes are filled with tears ; 

Dark clouds appear in other skies, 

And other lives become a load." 

XIII. 
This said, proud Duscan paused to note 
The change that came upon her cheek ; 
Its rosy tint had paled and gone, 
And tears were shining in her eyes. 
A Woman's tears, O heart of mine ! 
Such things too oft have made us err, 
And chaste old Prudence on her throne 
Induced our rude hands to molest. 
What crooked paths some feet have made 
Influenced by a woman's tears ! 

XIV. 

Those lips, those cheeks, and tearful eyes 
Had told far more than words can tell, 
Ere Ennis, in a plaintive tone. 
These secrets of her heart revealed : 



254 



WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

*'One thoughtless deed brought pain and woe 
To this poor, hapless heart of mine, 
And I have suffered more thereby 
Than e'en an Angel's tongue can tell. 
The tears that from these eyes have gushed 
Have left their furrows on my cheek. 
And I would rather sleep in death 
Than go again through what I've gone. 

XV. 

* 

Thy face has haunted me so oft 
And I've so often heard thy voice 
That I have wished for death to come 
And ease, for once, my tortured breast ; 
But I deserve to bear the load 
That burdens my unstable heart, 
And tears of blood could scarcely make 
Due penance for the wrong I've done. 
I scarce can bear to think upon 
The happy hours I might have seen 
Had I but trusted one true man 
Who threw his fond heart at my feet ; 
But all in vain — those times are flown. 
And I'm another thoughtless wretch 
Who let Life's garden run to waste. 
And wrecked her poor proud heart at last. 
I scarce can gaze upon your face 
And keep that heart within my breast. 



ENNIS OLAN. 

O that I could once more enjoy 
The hours I wasted by your side !" 

XVI. 
Fresh tears had started o'er her cheeks, 
And Duscan's hazel eyes were wet. 
Her hapless heart lay at his feet, 
And his at hers still writhing lay. 
His hour had gone, and they must part ; 
He rose, he clasped her hand, and said ' 
In melting tones : "Farewell ! farewell !" 
Her soft lips whispered: "Fare thee well!' 



255 



Canto IL 
I. 

O, Eden ! Eden ! where wert thou, 

Where lay spread out thy sacred soil, 

Where blossomed thy unfading bowers. 

And swayed them in the virgin air? 

From what rich soil sprang forth thy groves 

Through which the sunbeams danced and played. 

While brilliant birds attuned their lays 

To charm the ear of youthful Time? 

O sacred Spot! I fain would spend 

One of the fleet-winged days of Life 

In wandering through thy bright domain ; 

But where on all this earth wert thou? 

II. 

'Twas Autumn, and the round red sun 
Hung just above the western hill; 
The restless winds sighed through the groves 
And sported with the golden leaves; 
Sighed o'er where, slumbering in the dust, 
Lay all the gorgeous flowers of June ; 
Went whispering on and murmuring by 
The wreck of many a Songster's nest. 



ENNIS OLAN. 257 

III. 

That sunlit eve fair Ennis went 
Alone down to the pasture gate, 
And there stood waiting for the cows 
When Duscan on his bay came up. 
He raised his hat^ he greeted her, 
And reined his steed near where she stood 
With bosom pressed against the gate, 
Her soft arms resting on the bars. 
The shades of evening lay across 
The broad lane and its grassy side, 
And roguish winds strange capers played 
With her loose locks of raven hair ; 
Her cheeks had on their wonted glow. 
Her eyes their former luster shed ; 
Her voice still sweet, and charming still. 
Bespoke the' fondness of her heart. 
No sweeter smile e'er curled a lip 
Than that with which she greeted him. 
And kinder words than Ennis spoke 
Had never rung in Duscan's ear. 

IV. 

Five years had flown with restless Time 
Since he, of whom our numbers tell, 
Had looked in Ennis Olan's face 
Or lingered by her broad hearthside ; 
17 



258 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

And she had thought his absence long, 
Yet knew not where his footsteps fell; 
But still for him her vigils kept 
And nursed his image in her heart. 
Some words between the two had passed, 
Words such as meeting lovers use. 
When Duscan's trembling lips impelled 
These firebrands from his burriing heart : 



V. 

"Home, home at last ; my footsteps went 
To search out old Earth's secret nooks, 
And see if one lone spot remained 
Where I might cease to think of thee ; 
To find if Lethe's potent stream 
From hill or brake or woodland flowed, 
I went, but left my heart behind 
Still wrecked and bleeding at thy feet. 
I climbed the mountain's craggy side. 
And from its top o'erlooked the world; 
W^ith slow step passed the rayless caves 
Where wild beasts noonday revels kept; 
Stood by where sat the eagle's nest. 
With ponderous rocks above my head — 
Yes, rocks, that at the bugle's sound 
Might have swept out the vales below. 



ENNIS OLAN. 259 

VI. 

I sailed the deep from clime to clime, 
Stood on old Ocean's wildest shore, 
Drank draughts at many a river's source, 
And left my tracks in desert sands; 
Sat long on rocks beside the main ; 
Heard angry billows roll and fret, 
And wooed the sweet nymph, Solitude, 
In secret from her fairy bowers. 
I traced wild streams from mouth to source, 
Peered down the stern Volcano's throat, 
And heard strange beasts at midnight hour 
From out their pathless jungles shriek. 

VII. 

I saw the various tribes of Man, 
Each in his own respective clime, 
Clad in his own peculiar garb. 
Blessed in his wife, his babes, and friends. 
And in his heart's contentment blessed ; 
While I, a worm in Misery's night. 
Sped on and on from shore to shore 
In search of peace, in search of rest. 
Convinced at last that old Earth kept 
The gems I sought nowhere in store, 
I have returned to find my heart 
Still breaking at thy careless feet. 



26o WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

I've seen the fair of every tribe; 
Since thine, I've gazed in many a face ; 
And though my bosom bled for thee, 
Thy face I struggled to forget. 

VIII. 
Ah ! when I lingered by thy side 
Five years gone by, I talked of Love, 
And strove to have thy lips confess 
The love I thought you nursed for me ; 
But you of Friendship only talked. 
'Tis true, Friendship's a jewel rare, 
A gem no monarch's realm could buy, 
A blessing to the poorest heart." 

IX. 

He ceased, his eyes were fixed on her ; 
Her orbs met his, and she began: 
''My heart is filled with Friendship rare. 
Friendship that no transition knows, 
Deep as old Ocean's deepest caves. 
High as the highest mountain's top, 
Broad as the sea, firm as the rocks 
'Gainst which its maddened billows beat. 
Long years ago this Friendship made 
Its welcome seat within my breast. 
And thievish Time has had no power 
To steal the shining jewel thence; 



ENNIS OLAN. 261 

Some would to Friendship such as this 
Have given Love's familiar name, 
But I am made to catch my breath 
And shudder at the thought of Love. 
A tremor darts throughout my breast 
Whene'er my lips that word bespeak. 

X. 

Friendship is such a tender word 

That even from the harshest tongue 

It falls like music in the ear, 

And calls our fondest feelings up ; 

While Love, though breathed by softest lips 

On zephyrs in Edenic bowers 

When Life's most precious hours steal on, 

Drops round us like a thunderbolt, 

Impels its lightning through our veins. 

Starts from our eyes electric fire, 

Sends shivers to the conscious heart, 

And makes our pulses faster beat. 

My heart so sad and lonely grew, 

And lost so much while thou wert gone. 

That I scarce thought to smile again 

This side the midnight of the tomb. 

Why will you cause my heart to grieve 

And make me lose whole nights of rest, 

Thou Man of all men that I — well, 

We women are such simple things." 



262 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

XL 

She paused, she blushed, and from her brow 
Unthinking brushed her ringlets back. 
And Duscan gave the sweetest smile 
His lip had known for long years past ; 
Some minutes swept in silence by, 
Minutes in which their hearts communed. 
And her soft eyes poured into his 
What tardy lips had failed to speak. 
Or e'en had power to breathe so well. 
When he to her this answer made: 

XII. 

"I went to lose my love for thee 

On foreign shores, in distant wilds, 

So that I might before your face 

Like other men appear at ease. 

No matter where my footsteps fell, 

On desert sands, on mountain snows. 

Or among the rocks beside the brine, 

I sighed, I felt, I wept for thee. 

On foreign shores, in banquet halls 

Where women's eyes like diamonds shone 

While sweetest music filled his ear, 

A Stranger danced and thought of thee. 

When tender eyes gazed into his, 

And on him lovely faces smiled. 



ENNIS OLAN. 263 

In place of meeting smile with smile 
He turned aside to think of thee. 

XIII. 

A contest in his bosom raged — 
Dame Reason with Affection fought; 
Where'er he went in search of Peace 
He found the timid bird had flown, 
And found at last that earth contained 
No dungeon cave or rock-bound coast 
Where he might from himself conceal 
And lose or shun his love for thee. 
Where'er he paused, where'er he went, 
In Peasant's hut or Monarch's hall. 
He heard, and still can hear, the vows 
Thy sweet lips to his rival made. 

XIV. 
Go cleave to him and let me grieve ; 
Go, and thy slightest vow redeem ; 
Though pale and sad, these lips of mine 
Have made no vows they dare not keep." 
The sun had set, he turned to go, 
Tears filled his eyes and shone in hers, 
Her lips grew pale, her bosom heaved, 
And down the slope a sad man rode. 



264 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

XV. 

Ah ! many a poor, proud woman stands 
Beside the dusty lane of Life, 
And through a flood of useless tears 
Beholds ride by her all of earth. 
Poor Woman ! why bestow your hand. 
Not knowing that your heart is there. 
Then struggle to perform your vow 
'Gainst all the winds and tides of Fate? 
There's many a tender heart that aches, 
And no one knows of its distress ; 
Pines, suffers, bleeds, and breaks at last — 
A tongue-tied Martyr to its fate. 
Sad tears have crept in many an eye 
When laughter filled the spacious hall. 
And light toes on the conscious floor 
Responsive to the music beat. 

XVI. 

And many a wife had rather go 
To rest beneath the churchyard grass 
Than waste Life's remnant with the beast 
That won her hand without her heart. 
O Fate ! why not the brutes expose 
That walk the earth in human shape, 
Steal into households well-to-do 
And coax their lovely inmates hence. 



ENNIS OLAN. 265 

Then doff their artificial smiles 

And play the vilest villain's part, 

Till those blithe birds, decoyed from home, 

Become the saddest in the grove? 

XVII. 
The blackest cave that Earth sacks up 
And in her layless bosom hides 
At midnight's not so full of gloom 
As Villains make good Women's lives. 



NOTES. 



Page 29. 

Some leave the plow to reign as king. 

Cincinnatus, who "was twice chosen dictator, and at the 
expiration of each term of office he returned to the plow." 
— Webster's Dictionary. 

Page 29. 

Some lessons learn of men they taught. 

"Thus old Romano bowed to Raphael's fame, 
And scholar to the youth he taught became." 

— Dryden. 

Page 29. 

Some close their eyes upon the field 

Just when their swords have won renown. 

"General Wolfe died on the field of battle, but he lived 
long enough to be informed that he had gained the victory. 
Conveyed to the rear and supported by a few attendants, 
while the agonies of death were upon him, he heard the dis- 
tant cry: 'They run, they run.' Raising his drooping head, the 
dying hero asked: 'Who run?' Being informed that it was 
the French, 'Then,' said he, 'I die contented,' and imme- 
diately expired." — Willson's "United States," pages 191, 192. 



NOTES. 26y 

Page 29. 

Some conquer much at last to yield. 

Bancroft, after speaking of the many brilliant victories he 
had won, remarks : "Hannibal was now called home to de- 
fend the metropolis. He fought a battle with raw troops at 
Zama and was defeated." — "Footprints of Time," page 94. 

Page 29. 

Some save up gold to buy a crown. 

"The soldiers in Rome then proclaimed that the empire 
was for sale, and a rich merchant, Didius, bought it from 
them and reigned in Rome two months, when he was also 
slain by the army." — "Footprints of Time" page 124. 

Page 29. 

Some leave the forge at Freedom's call. 

Gen. Nathanael Greene, of whom Frost says : "He was the 
second son of Nathanael Greene, a member of the Society of 
Friends, an anchorsmith. . . . Being intended by his fa- 
ther for the business which he himself pursued, young Greene 
received at school nothing but the elements of a common 
English education." — "Lives of American Generals" page no. 

Page 30. 

Some triumph in a tyrant's fall, 
Yet claim to love him all the while. 

"If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of 
Caesar's, to him I say that Brutus's love to Caesar was no 
less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose 



268 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

against Caesar, this is my answer : 'Not that I loved Caesar 
less, but that I loved Rome more.' " — Shakespeare's "Julius 
CcEsar." 

Page 30. 

Some end their days when ills befall. 

"Cassius, after he had lost the battle of Philippi, killed 
himself with the same dagger which he had made use of 
against Caesar." — Plutarch's "Lives," page 518. 

Page 47. 

Or pushed across the watery waste 
On hopeless keg with willows laced. 

"From neighboring woods he interlaced 
His sorry skiff with wattled willows; 
And thus equipped he would have passed 
The foaming billows." 
— Campbell's "Napoleon and the British Sailor." 

Page 58. 

Some have in youth bright prospects had 
That brought them grief in after years. 

Among the many persons of this class Mary Queen of 
Scots might be mentioned. 

Page 62. 
O ye whose souls may melt o'er Ovid's lays. 

A Roman poet born B.C. 43 and died 18 A.D. See Pope's 
translation of his "Sappho to Phaon." 



NOTES. 269 

Page 62. 
Or sigh with Scotia's Bard of happier days. 
Robert Burns, the national bard of Scotland. 

Page 63. 

And humbly trust the lengthy verse I use. 

I am aware that the measure I have chosen for this poem, 
the old heroic couplet, is fast falling into disuse. It is too 
slow for the age in which we live; but, nevertheless, it is a 
great favorite of mine. 

Page 65. 

Ere Blue and Gray had dipped their hands in blood, 
Or dire Rebellion shot its baleful bud. 

It is well known that the uniforms of the Federal soldiers 
were blue and those of the Confederates gray. 

Page 65. 

But why delay to sketch his humble hearth, 
For sadder hut than his gave Genius birth? 

Burns came into existence in a hovel built of clay and 
thatched with straw. 

Page 66. 

An hour's delay may teach thy biased mind 
Such home as his the happiest of mankind. 

The gayest and kindest-hearted people that I ever visited 
are those of the country who inhabit huts as described in the 
text. 



270 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Page 69. 
The Butcher's son as gen'roiis as his sire. 
Henry Kirke White was the son of a Nottingham butcher. 

Page 69. • 

Sat by his side bent o'er the ''Rule of Three." 

The older arithmeticians presented their pupils the "Single" 
and "Double Rule of Three," for which the younger have sub- 
stituted "Simple" and "Compound Proportion." 

Page 69. 

The Lawyer's and the pious Parson's son 
Sat smiling by with hearts in love with fun. 

In almost every village the sons of the doctor, lawyer, and 
preacher are noted for their idleness in the schoolroom. 

Page 70. 

If caught, they felt quite conscious of their doom, 
And thus appeared the gravest in the room. 

The teachers, in the Author's early boyhood, were noted 
principally for their great skill in the use of the beechen-rod. 

Page 70. 

Then if some knotty sum from Smiley 's page. 

Samuel Smiley, author of the arithmetic used in the coun- 
try schools during the first half of the nineteenth century. 

Page 75. 
But hush ! for Beauty man's great Mecca is. 
The city of Mecca is the birthplace of Mohammed, founder 



NOTES. 271 

of the Mohammedan religion. His followers are required to 
make pilgrimages to the temple at that place and turn their 
faces toward it in prayer. See "What the World Believes." 

Page 81. 

Who by good care a decent Webster had. 
Noah Webster's "Elementary Spelling Book." 

Page 81. 

Where long have dwelt the mastiff and the deer. 

Near the back of the "Elementary Spelling Book" were a 
few pictures, among them those of a mastifif and a deer. 
These were much talked of and highly prized by the school 
children. 

Page 81. 

To thee, from us, no empty praise is due, 
For thy rich volume with its back of blue. 

The backs of the long-used and highly appreciated "Ele- 
mentary Spelling Book" were covered with blue paper. 

I 
Page 82. 

And not content in these first gems to shine, 
It sought out all Orthography's rich mine. 

Speaking of Webster's "Spelling Book," his biographer 
says : "During the twenty years in which he was employed 
in compiling his 'American Dictionary' the entire support of 
his family was derived from the profits of this work at a 
premium for copyright of less than a cent a copy." 



272 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Page 86. 

Then Burns's songs of bliss could yield me more. 

As early as I can remember my father was in the habit of 
taking me upon his knee and singing "Highland Mary," "The 
Sodger's Return," and "Auld Lang Syne." 

Page 87. 

As white as e'er the cliffs of Dover shone. 

"His eye, methinks, pursued the flight 

Of birds to Britain halfway over; 

With envy they could reach the white, 

Dear cliffs of Dover." — Campbell. 

Page 91. 

For some erect the tomb of vanished Bliss 
On some such painful, parting hour as this. 

"On the roadside, between Penrith and Appleby, there 
stands a small pillar with this inscription : "This pillar was 
erected in the year 1656, by Ann, Countess-Dowager of Pem- 
broke, etc., for a memorial of her last parting, in this place, 
with her good and pious mother, Margaret, Countess-Dow- 
ager of Cumberland, on the 2d of April, 1616." — Rogers's 
Note to the "Pleasures of Memory.'' 

Page 92. 

Sad tears as e'er appeared in Sappho's eyes. 

Sappho, the great lyric Poetess, flourished 600 B.C. 
"Love taught my tears in sadder notes to flow. 
And tuned my heart to elegies of woe." 
— Pope's translation of Ovid's "Sappho to Phaon." 



NOTES. 273 

Page 109. 

Lo! at this stage of Falro's troubles came 

Our nation's thirst for conquest, wealth, and fame; 

She sought to hoard that isolated gem. 

"Texas, formerly a province of Mexico, but settled mostly 
by emigrants from the United States, had previously with- 
drawn from the Mexican Republic, and by force of arms had 
nobly sustained her independence, although unacknowledged 
by Mexico." — Willson's "United States," pages 345, 346. 

Page 109. 

'Twas more, we thought, than justly should be done. 
And stepped aside to save the lonely one. 

Texas, in her war with Mexico, had but one star on her 
flag, and is now known as the "Lone Star State." 

Page 109. 

In that fierce struggle proud Virginia's son 
Immortal praise, immortal honors won. 

"Zachary Taylor . . . was born in Orange County, Va., 
on the twenty- fourth day of November, 1784. In the fol- 
lowing summer his father fulfilled his long-cherished inten- 
tion of emigrating to Kentucky." — Fry's "Life of General 
Zachary Taylor," page 14. 

Page no. 

Where fighting fell the son of Ashland's Sage. 

Henry Clay was styled the "Sage of Ashland." 
18 



274 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Page no. 

Alas! who has not seen or may not see 

On that same page where fell the brave McKee ? 

"Far in advance of their companions the Kentucky regi- 
ment, under Clay and McKee, pushed after the fugitives un- 
til they became entangled among the ravines and passes on 
the left. Seizing this favorable moment, the cavalry wheeled 
around and attacked these troops with their whole force, and 
the fearful work once more commenced. All day these gal- 
lant sons of Kentucky had toiled and fought; and now pent 
up among rocky gorges and facing an entire army, they strug- 
gled on till night. Their colonels fell dead, but round their 
bodies the soldiers gathered and fought hand to hand with 
their cruel foe." — Frost's "Lives," pages 823, 824. 

Page no. 

And Hardin too, not less renowned than they. 

"The brave Colonel Hardin, the pride of the Illinois troops, 
was killed in the same charge with McKee and Clay." — Bat- 
tle, Perrin, and KnifUn's "Kentucky," page 346. 

Page 112. 

He fought where Hardin, Clay, and Ringgold fell. 

Frost, speaking of Major Ringgold, says: "His calm, col- 
lected bearing and chivalric bravery were the admiration of 
every beholder. Yet he was to shine but for a moment. 
Death had marked him for its victim and fixed the dear price 
of his glory. While superintending the eighteen-pounders a 
cannon ball struck his right thigh, passed completely through 
the shoulders of his horse, and out through his left thigh. 



NOTES. 



275 



tearing away all the muscles that opposed its course." — 
"Lives of American Generals" page 814. 

Page 112. 

And silence sank upon the heart of Yell. 

"They were gallantly opposed by the Kentucky and Arkan- 
sas cavalry under Colonels Marshall and Yell. The shock 
was a heavy one. Colonel Yell fell at the head of his col- 
umn, and the Kentuckians lost Adjutant Vaughn, a young 
officer of much promise." — Battle, Perrin, and KnifUn's "Ken- 
tucky," page 345. 

Page 112. 

He saw the Chief astride his milk-white steed 
Lead on his men at no reluctant speed. 

'Tn the very midst of it one man rode along the van of 
our troops on a white horse and exhorted them to duty. At 
sight of him wild shouts of exultation rose above the shock 
of contending armies, and each soldier forgot that he was 
rioting in blood and danger." — Frost's "Lives," pages 813, 
814. 

Page 113. 
When daring May close on the batt'ry came. 
"Perceiving that nothing decisive could be accomplished 
while the Mexicans retained these guns, General Taylor or- 
dered Captain May to charge them with his dragoons. That 
order was welcome. As the Captain rode back to his com- 
mand each eye was bent upon him with an almost agonizing 
expression. 'Men,' he exclaimed, 'follow,' and instantly 
that troop were plunging toward the rocks of the Resaca. 
. . , Grim and silent the enemy awaited their approach, 



276 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

with the ignited matches close to the cannon. Nearer and 
nearer the dragoons approached; it seemed Hke mocking 
death — one of those terrible moments when the mind dares 
not think. A roar like thunder broke the suspense. . . . 
Leaping on the breeches of the cannon, they overthrew the 
cannoneers and drove back the Tampico regiment with their 
sabers. These were repulsed but a moment. They rushed 
back to their stations, seized the horses' bridles, and fought 
hand to hand with the riders. Again they were rolled back, 
and again, returned, climbing over heaps of their fallen com- 
panions, and planting their standard by the principal battery. 
La Vega, their general, black with the filth of battle, stood 
among his fallen heroes, and called the survivors to their 
posts. . . . May again rushed on them, breaking their 
ranks and capturing La Vega himself." — Frost's ''Lives" pages 
816, 817. 

Page 113. 

One hardy wretch in thoughtfiilness and haste 
Bewrapped the flag,, around his bleeding waist. 

"Tearing the flag from its staff, one of them wrapped it 
around his body and attempted to escape ; but, weary and 
wounded, fell down through loss of blood and was cap- 
tured." — Frost's "Lives" page 817. 

Page 116. 

Sad souls made happy by some cheerful bird. 

"A light broke in upon my brain; 
It was the carol of a bird. 
It ceased, and then it came again, 
The sweetest song ear ever heard. 



NOTES. 277 

And mine was thankful till my eyes 
Ran over with the glad surprise." 

— Byron's "Prisoner of Chillon.'' 

Page 121. 

Yes, played our nation's spirit-stirring air. 

"Yankee Doodle." 

Page 121. 

He heard the brave Wool's voice, saw his tall form 
Lead up the lines to face the deadly storm. 

"But at that moment the voice of General Wool came 
ringing over the field : 'Illinoise, Illinoise, to the rescue.' 
. . . Still the tall form of Wool was seen, gliding from 
company to company, shouting that stirring appeal and filling 
every heart with fire." — Frost's "Lives," page 822. 

Page 121. 

A voice before them rang, more deep, more grave — 
'Twas that of Taylor, Taylor cool and brave. 

"But before the charge another voice was heard, more 
thrilling, more potent than that of Wool. Sweeping along 
on his white horse, General Taylor rode between the armies, 
while his name went up from three thousand voices." — 
Frost's "Lives," page 822. 

Page 122. 

That rich, old strain that takes our feelings back 
To youth's bright morn beside some grassy track. 

"The Girl I Left Behind Me." 



2J% WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Page 124. 

In form so like the matchless maid of Greece. 

Helen, of Greece, supposed to have been the most beautiful 
woman of antiquity. Homer says of her : 

"No wonder such celestial charms 
For nine long years have set the world in arms ; 
What winning graces! what majestic mien! 
She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen." 

— Pope's translation of the "Iliad." 

Page 131. 

Lest all my gold should prove but clay 
When brought unto the smelter. 

"Believing that they had discovered grains of gold in a 
stream of water near Jamestown, the entire industry of the 
colony was directed to digging, washing, refining, and loading 
gold; and notwithstanding the remonstrances of Smith, a 
ship was actually freighted with the glittering earth and sent 
to England." — Willson's "United States/' page 51. 

Page 134. 

Since Greece from pure perfection's mold 
Cast forth her matchless beauty. 

Helen, who was stolen by Theseus. Plutarch says of 
Theseus and Pirithous: "The two friends went together to 
Sparta, and, having seen the girl dancing in the temple of 
Diana Orthia, carried her off and fled. The persons that 
were sent after them followed no farther than Tegea. They 
thought themselves secure; and having traversed Pelopon- 
nesus, they entered into an agreement that he who should 



NOTES. 279 

gain Helen by lot should have her to wife, but be obliged to 
assist in procuring a wife for the other. In consequence of 
these terms, the lot being cast, she fell to Theseus, who re- 
ceived the virgin." — ''Lives/' page 10. 

Page 137. 

And she had ne'er her homage paid 
To Cupid's bow and quiver. 

"Cupid, the son of Venus and god of love, was represented 
as a beautiful boy, with wings, a bow and arrows, and gen- 
erally with a bandage over his eyes. He had wings to show 
his caprice and desire of change. He is described as blind, 
because we are apt to shut our eyes to the faults of those 
we love." — "What the World Believes," page 46. 

Page 141. 

And it has grown in ev'ry clime, 
Excepting my own dear one. 

The United States, though having produced some sweet 
Singers, has yet not had her national Bard, and none equal 
to her Historians, Orators, and Soldiers. 

Page 141. 

But ten long centuries are required 
To bring a nation's poet. 

If a thousand years are actually required for a nation to 
produce a great Poet, we shall have to wait some six cen- 
turies yet for his appearance. 



28o WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Page 145. 

As friendships did when hearts were true 
Back in barbaric ages. 

"Damon and Pythias, of the Pythagorean sect of philoso- 
phy, Hved in the time of Dionysius, the tyrant of Sicily. Their 
mutual friendship was so strong that they were ready to die 
for one another. One of the two (for it is not known which), 
being condemned to death by the tyrant, obtained leave to 
go into his own country to settle his affairs, on condition that 
the other should consent to be imprisoned in his stead and 
put to death for him if he did not return before the day of 
execution. The attention of every one, and especially of the 
tyrant himself, was excited to the highest pitch, as every- 
body was curious to see what would be the event of so 
strange an affair. When the time was almost elapsed, and 
he who was gone did not appear, the rashness of the other, 
whose sanguine friendship had put him upon running so 
seemingly desperate a hazard, was universally blamed. But 
he still declared that he had not the least shadow of a doubt 
in his mind of his friend's fidehty. The event showed how 
well he knew him. He came in due time, and surrendered 
himself to the fate which he had no reason to think he should 
escape, and which he did not desire to escape, by leaving his 
friend to suffer in his place. Such fidelity softened even the 
savage heart of Dionysius himself. He pardoned the con- 
demned, he gave the two friends to one another, and begged 
that they would take him in for a third." — Branson's "Elo- 
cution," page 260. 

Page 152. 

And Burns beside his favorite Ayr 
Scarce took more time in starting. 



NOTES. 281 

"After a pretty long trial of the most ardent, reciprocal 
affection, we met by appointment on the second Sunday of 
May in a sequestered spot on the banks of the Ayr, where 
we spent a day in taking a farewell before she should embark 
for the West Highlands to arrange matters among her friends 
for our projected change of Hfe." — Robert Burns. 

Page 159. 

Where Byron, proud but sad at heart, 
Had poured each tender feeling. 

See Byron's "Stanzas to a Lady on Leaving England," 
"Well! thou art happy," "And thou art dead, as young and 
fair," "The Tear," and "To a Lady." 

Page 159. 

And drove at times the poison dart 
Too deep for early healing. 

See "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers." In speaking 
of it, Byron's biographer says : "It angered a great part of 
the literary world, but it at the same time proved the ability 
of the young poet." 

Page 159. 
The lines that told of Love's adieu 
And Love's first kiss were near ones. 

See "Love's Last Adieu" and "The First Kiss of Love," 
by B^ron. 

Page 159. 

Or spoke of Mary's ringlets' hue. 

"When haply some light waving locks I behold, 
That faintly resemble my Mary's in hue, 



282 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY, 

I think on the long flowing ringlets of gold, 
The locks that were sacred to beauty, and you." 

— Byron. 

Page 159. 

For Truth appeared in ev'ry line 
To sleeping Thyrza written. 

"His few poems addressed to 'Thyrza' seem to be the 
only ones on which secrecy placed its finger ; he never would 
tell even his most intimate friends who she was." — Life of 
Byron. 

Page 159. 

And he had still one tender tear 
For Mary, fair but fickle. 

"Thou art not false, but thou art fickle, 

To those thyself so fondly sought; 
The tears that thou hast forced to trickle 

Are doubly bitter from that thought. 
'Tis this which breaks the heart thou grievest, 
Too well thou lov'st, too soon thou leavest." 

— Byron. 

Page 160. 

Ay! v^ept with Scotia's famous child 
O'er Highland Mary's embers. 

See Burns's songs, "Highland Mary" and "To Mary in 
Heaven." The last half of the first stanza of the latter song 
is said to be engraved on the tomb of Mary Campbell, im- 
mortahzed by Burns as "Highland Mary." 



NOTES. 283 

Page 160. 

And Mary's comely face was there — 
Her long, bright tresses gleaming. 

"The Bible over which the lovers uttered their vows and 
a tress of Mary's long, shining hair are still preserved." — Life 
of Burns, 

Page 160. 

He many a wild bird's song had heard 

In those deep lays resounded; 
For many a merry little bird 

Had Burns's bosom wounded. 

See Burns's "Address to the Woodlark," "The Banks o' 
Doon," and "Afton Water." 

Page 205. 

Her sigh went like the pointed dart 
That once a skillful hand let fly, 
And pierced a rash old Monarch's eye. 

"Aster of Amphipolis had offered his services to Philip 
as so excellent a marksman that he could bring down birds 
in their most rapid flight. The monarch made this answer, 
'Well, I will take you into my service when I make war 
upon starlings,' which answer stung the archer to the quick. 
. . . After having thrown down himself into the city he 
let fly an arrow on which was written : 'To PhiHp's right 
eye.' This carried a most cruel proof that he was a good 
marksman, for he hit him in the right eye, and Philip sent 
him back the same arrow with this inscription, Tf Philip 



284 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

takes the city, he will hang up Aster,' and accordingly he 
was as good as his promise." — Goldsmith's "Greece," page 
225. 

Page 206. 
They from their beds great rivers turn. 

Bancroft says of the fall of Babylon : "The walls were im- 
pregnable, but the river proved a source of weakness. It had 
been once diverted from its course to pave its bed within 
the city. The hint was accepted, and on a night of feasting 
and carelessness it was again turned aside to give free en- 
trance to the besiegers, and the Babylonian Empire fell in 
the very height of its pomp and glory." — "Footprints of Time," 
page 54. 

Page 206. 

Their mighty hosts drink rivers dry. 

" 'Demaratus, the exiled king of Sparta,' was one day 
asked by Xerxes if he thought that the Grecians would dare 
to await his approach or would venture an engagement with 
armies that drank up whole rivers in their march." — Gold- 
smith's "Greece," page 65. 

Page 206. 

No herbage springs from out the sod 
Where iron-footed War has trod. 

It was Attila's boast "that the grass grew not where his 
horse had trod." — Samuel Rogers. 

Page 223. 
Like Chesterfield's his manners grew. 
"Earl of Chesterfield, English orator and wit, distinguished 



NOTES. 285 

as a man of fashion," is said to have remarked in dying : 
"Give Tyroles a chair." 

Page 233. 
O Beauty ! at thy pleasing shrine. 

In this poem I have taken the liberty to relieve the grand 
old Spenserian stanza of one foot per line. 

Page 236. 

A few steps from Buck Creek's low bed. 

The stream to which has been given the unpoetical name 
of Buck Creek ris€S in the valley about a mile north of 
Hampton, flows north, and empties into the Ohio River just 
above Carrsville, Ky. 

Page 245. 

In bygone years my Muse portrayed 
Some scenes in Love's delightful bower. 

This poem was composed nearly four years after the one 
preceding it. It is written in blank verse of an unusual 
measure. 

Page 249. 

But, Leon-like, oft seek in vain. 

"In 1512 Ponce de Leon sailed from Porto Rico and dis- 
covered the coast of Florida. . . > De Leon was an old 
Spanish enthusiast and was looking for a fabled fountain of 
immortal youth." — Swinton's "United States," page 10. 



286 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Page 258. 

Yes, rocks, that at the bugle's sound 
Might have swept out the vales below. 

"From rock to rock, with giant bound, 
High on their iron poles they pass ; 
Mute, lest the air, convulsed by sound. 
Rend from above a frozen mass." 

"There are passes in the Alps where the guides tell you to 
move on with speed, and say nothing, lest the agitation of the 
air should loosen the snows above." — Samuel Rosers. 



REMARKS BY POETS ON THE AUTHOR'S 
FIRST VOLUME, "HEART WHISPERS." 



"Heart Whispers" reached me two days ago. It is an hon- 
orable proof of your love of poetry and of your resolute de- 
votion to it in the face of not a few of the difficulties of 
life. — Alfred Austin, P.L. 

You have the strength and ideals of the true poet, and 
your walks with Nature are close and fascinating. I be- 
speak for your song a final triumph. — Robert Paine Hudson. 

Your verses indicate much lyric talent, my dear Mr. Ad- 
cock. I have only had a brief hour to devote to them, as 
over one hundred books await my perusal. — Ella Wheeler 
Wilcox. 

I have read poems by the old standard writers and many 
by the late authors, but permit me to tell you that no volume 
of poems has appealed to me as your own have. Occasion- 
ally I read something rhythmically sweet in "Heart Whis- 
pers," which I keep on the table in my private room. — Belle 
Bearden Barry. 

I have read your book of verses with a great deal of pleas- 
ure. I find in it work that many a college-educated man 
would have been proud to have produced. You possess an 
accuracy of rhyme and meter that is really astonishing. In- 
deed, you equal, at least in this respect, the poets you revere — 



288 WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY. 

Moore, Campbell, Byron, and Whittier. The only thing I 
do not like about your work is the title. It is too senti- 
mental. — Madison Cawein. 

I have had the pleasure of giving your volume entitled 
"Heart Whispers" a careful examination, having read it from 
cover to cover, and find that its title is well earned, as it 
breathes the spirit of tender passion when the heart yields to 
the aspirations of youthful ambition and swells with emo- 
tion in the contemplation of Love and Beauty. While 
many of its pages are clothed in garments of sadness, 
the whole is relieved by the warmest expressions of Love, 
Life, and Beauty that haunt the imagination of youth, and 
the tender emotions that well from the fountains of the 
heart. Its measure runs with an even smoothness throughout 
the entire volume in the various forms of verse, and the 
rhythm responds with beauty and sweetness to the spirit of 
song. It is, indeed, the first step in the achievement of a 
plausible ambition, and is the harbinger of success to its 
gifted author. — M. M. Teagar. 



